


The Perpetual Potion

by Eternallost



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon, Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Guilt, Love Potion/Spell, Occlumency, On the Run, Porn With Plot, Potions, Teacher-Student Relationship, Torture, Training, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 46,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallost/pseuds/Eternallost
Summary: Hermoine knows that something has gone wrong with her potion. What she does not know is how it will alter the progression of her life and her professor's. Excerpts from the books and movies.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 44
Kudos: 242





	1. Chapter 1

She had always felt more confidence in her casting abilities than her appearance. Her skin was speckled with goose bumps. She did not know if it was from the winter chill, or the anticipation she felt. It was the night of the Yule Ball during her fourth year at Hogwarts. She ran a hand through her curls, feeling that she had bested her hair in the ongoing battle for beauty. Her dress held the reminiscence of peonies that grew outside of her non-wizarding household. It further maintained that otherworldly aura, being less traditional than the chorus of dress robes that she saw many of her classmates purchase in Diagon Alley. The sound of her heals on the stone floor was foreign as she hastily headed to met with the first date of her young life, Viktor Krum.

Severus Snape, distancing himself from chaperoning the event as much as possible, caught a glimpse of the girl in pale violet and pink in the castle hall. What was it with girls and their resemblance to flowers? Was it their desire to be such, or did nature simply intend for it to happen? As he watched her glide steadily forward, he smirked when he recalled how he had halted the assault from Weasley and Potter in the dining hall. He recollected their mockery towards the girl and the indignation he felt as he empathized at being an outcast, the last resort in a dance that would be worth nothing, years into the future. As soon as the red-haired boy had gathered the gall to ask, Severus had pulled back his sleeves and gave the youngsters a refresher course on manners. He raised a charcoal eyebrow as the girl, with the once frizzy hair and rabbit-like teeth, had said that she had gotten a date. Was it a farce meant to sting her cruel friends? His mind soon came back to her lonesome form in the corridor.

He decided to investigate. He was a teacher, after all. "Do you have a reason to be walking the halls so late, Miss Granger?" Was that make-up on her visage, or had his advancement caused her to flush?

"You must know Professor Snape, tonight is the dance; as you can see." She gestured to her outfit to further the point. As if the movement of her hands had permitted him, his gaze lingered on her lithe frame, draped in pastels. Abruptly, his dark eyes came back up to examine hers.

"Indeed." He allowed. "And yet, where is your date?"

He could practically see the magic energy well within her. "He is waiting for me in the Great Hall." Her eyes shifted back and forth, indignantly holding his gaze.

"Very well, then." He stepped aside.

He watched her start forward, her shoulders hunched. "Honestly, I would expect these comments from Ron." she mumbled to herself. There was that stubborn Gryffindor spirit.

An arm swiftly appeared before her, connecting to the castle wall and blocking her path.

"Do you place me at the same level of intelligence as that Weasley boy?" Snape loomed above her.

"I do not, Sir." She spoke tersely.

Perhaps she was cunning in her obedience after all. He began to move his arm away.

"However, the level of sensitivity appears to be poignantly familiar." She noted as she brushed past him.

With that quip, he was unsure whether to add points to her house, or to take them away.

She strode confidently onward. As he watched her turn the corner at the top of the stairwell, her smile grew. It was as if he and her worries had dissolved into the background. There in the empty hallway, Snape knew that the honor of her first reveal was not to her friends nor to her date; it was to himself. That was something that he would hold on to.


	2. Chapter 2

She thought that she was wise beyond her years; he wanted to show her otherwise. Expose her. He wanted to bend her over his knee like the child she was.

Sitting at his desk in the Potion's Room, Snape attempted to snap himself out of thoughts about the curly haired girl who was often wedged between Potter and Weasley. Frequently he thought, _what an odd place for her to be_. Then again, _where else should she be?_ Using a feather quill he scribbled notes of failure on splotchy parchment. There was a knock at the dungeon door.

"Come." He commanded. He looked up to see chestnut eyes. "Miss Granger." He noted coldly and returned to writing, "I assume there is good reason for this interruption." He waited for a response. After hesitation, he looked up again to see her peach face turning pale and her eyes rolling back in her head.

He quickly stood up and cast a spell to catch her before she hit the stone floor. "What on Earth-" he started but then realized- this was a potions matter. The girl had been messing around again. No doubt for the benefit of the two nitwits. She was smart enough to note that something had gone wrong and had come to him for advice. He'd give her some when she woke up, that was for certain. He laid her down on the wooden table and spoke " _lumos_ " so that he could examine what she had done to her body.

He looked at her pale face. "Poison?" He thought aloud. Blue lips. "Constricting? Or, perhaps, something in her throat." His fingers brushed her lips. Satin. Though he did not know why he noted the texture.

He propped open her mouth to look inside. Nothing there; sans for a smooth pink tongue. He let go of her at that point and stepped back. He had to remain detached and assess the situation. He didn't know why his mind would dwell in all the wrong places. All of his life this was so. Mainly it was the Dark Arts. Now, the sensation felt the same but the subject was different. He recalled the feeling of her lips. Weren't they exceedingly warm for such a pale person?

Then, an advanced potion came to mind. If she had done it wrong, her whole body would be heating up right about now. He took a step towards her and placed a hand over her skin. It felt like a radiator. He knew what would come next, though he was not prepared for the ramifications. She would be waking up any moment now and the first person she saw; he couldn't let it be him. He hid behind a column as he heard her sharp inhalation. She was awake again at least. She sputtered a bit and questioned meekly, "Professor Snape?"

He felt a little twinge at the awkward situation she was placing both of them in. Gryffindor would lose some points for this one. "Miss Granger." He retorted.

"Where are you?" She queried and he could hear her weight shifting off of the table.

"Stay where you are Miss Granger. I don't know why you were attempting a potion of that level, but I assure you that your house can thank you for the large amount of points lost that will be coming your way." He could hear her feet on the floor. "Stay where you are." he commanded.

"But- Why, professor?" He could hear the worry in her voice.

"You mixed the potion wrong." He attempted to clarify. "You made a different one." 

"Why should that affect my placement?" she asked.

"You always have a **why** , don't you Miss Granger? Perhaps we should ask before we embark on things of this nature." His words were biting.

She swallowed. "Please, Sir. You're making me nervous. It will be all right, won't it?"

"You're the know-it-all here Miss Granger. Think. Think of all the other possible potions that could have been made by incorrectly making the one you attempted. Recall your symptoms and there's your answer."

She closed her eyes and ran through lines of text in her mind. _There_ , she spotted it. "Love Potion." She whispered in disbelief. She felt her face flush from embarrassment.

"See, you don't need me after all." His voice echoed off the walls. "So head back to your quarters and find yourself a cure."

"Professor Snape!" She panicked, "I can't go out in the hallway! The first person I see-"

"I _know_." He replied. Then the idea came to mind. This was a teachable moment. A rare smile crept onto his face. "The only other option is having someone who knows what they're doing help you."

Hermione paused. Then said, "Will you help me professor? That's the reason I came tonight in the first place."

"Can't Potter or Weasley help you?" Say it. He wanted to hear her say it.

"They wouldn't really know, or have the experience to handle this situation." She was getting flustered.

"Very well, Miss Granger, but perhaps you will learn that to your actions there are consequences. Next time, think of them before your rash Gryffindor spirit gets the best of you. On the count of three, I'll step out from behind this column. Try to restrain yourself." He stated.

She resisted a laugh at the thought of herself pouncing on Professor Snape. How absurd. "Yes, sir." She replied.

"One-" She steadied her feet on the floor. "Two-" She clenched her fists and released them at her sides. "Three-" She took in a breath. As soon as he walked out, she felt the wind knocked out of her. The room was spinning and he was the only thing in focus. _Did he always have such elegant looking hands?_ She tried to shake it off.

 _Come on Hermione,_ she thought, _This is a professor here. Professor Snape._ But, as soon as she thought his name she felt something like a sugar rush. Her heart was beating faster. She wanted to touch him. _He must be so lonely._

"Hermione-" she heard him say sweetly. That was not possible! He never called students by their first name. Let alone anyone! Her eyelids were getting heavy and various parts of her seemed to dampen. _What an odd physiological response_.

 _Delightful_ , thought Professor Snape. He could see her dopey expression, then a serious one would flicker across her face as she was trying to fight the effects of the drug. Then it would fade into pleasure again. He decided to mess with her a little. "Hermione." He said softly. He wasn't expecting the excessive response to that. This was one powerful potion from the looks of it. It was going to be a long and interesting evening. But, at least he would be entertained. And the girl would be safe with him, wouldn't she? This ought to teach her to think twice before messing around.

Suddenly, her hands touched his face. _It will be alright.'_ He thought, _As long as I don't touch her, the activity shouldn't escalate._ Then, she brought those satin lips up to his. It was a sensation he couldn't recall the last time he had felt. He stepped back and kept his arms crossed at his chest. She adamantly moved forward. He forgot he was dealing with a Gryffindor. She pulled her lips up to his again, yet this time he felt her smooth tongue press against his. Now his cheeks were feeling a bit warm. He moved again and sat down behind his desk. He cleared his throat, "Miss Granger, have a seat and compose yourself."

She looked back at him longingly, "Aw. I like it when you call me Hermione." She said in a tone far too grown up for her youthful face.

His mind turned off for a second as he wondered if he had taken the drug as well.

"Hermione." He stated, and watched as the mere mention of her name sent the girl seeking release. Power was something Severus had sought early on in life, and here it was in the form of a girl. It would be hard to resist. He watched as she moved around the desk to stand by his chair. He looked up at her admiring face gleaming down at him, lips slightly parted and seeking more than he should offer.

"I said have a seat." He spoke coldly.

She took one on his lap.

Sensors went off in Snape's mind. She was way too close. The only way he would allow someone that close was at his command. He decided to use his hands due to the thought that any defensive spells right now might shock her system. He grabbed her by the wrists.

"My lap is not a seat. I will send you back to your dorm if you cannot head my instruction." He could see the tears welling up in her eyes. She nodded and stepped back. "Good." He noted. She flashed him a smile. What an odd experience. She didn't smile often in class. When she did she looked like… _No she didn't._ No one ever could. But, he wanted to make her smile again. He brushed a curl from her forehead to behind her ear. Behind that hair was a beautiful face. It had grown to suit her teeth. Seemingly out of nowhere, she brought her lips up again.

_Why did she have to taste so sweet?_

He turned his head. "Stop. Hermione... Please." If this went any further he wouldn't be able to head his own warning.


	3. Chapter 3

All she could see was the exquisite pained expression that appeared on his face each time she brushed his translucent skin. It made her seek more. That black hair that many had called grimy was actually smooth, it glistened like feathers. Its length filled her hands. She pushed a lock of it behind his ear only to see it fall back onto his high cheekbones that framed his face. With his dark hair, eyes like coal rimmed with a light purple and prominent nose he seemed like some elegant bird. She felt as if she were messing with nature by touching something so rare. She feared that he might fly away if she played too much.

Suddenly, she felt a hand in her curls, as if it were strings on her heart. The movement sent shivers down her spine. Her mouth curled upwards. When she opened her eyes, she could see him looking deep within hers, searching for something. Her heart dropped when she realized it wasn't her he was seeing. She would make him see her. She was here now and she would make her presence known. She held his square jaw and met her lips with his, letting him taste what she had to offer. Then he pulled away and his expression shifted from hurt to the blank serious face she had seen daily in class.

_"Stop. Hermione... Please."_

Her heart told her no but her mind still held the mentality of the good student that she was. Abruptly, recall came bubbling up within her. Starting in her stomach ending with a lump in her throat. That was right, she was feeling the effects of a love potion and exacting its actions on Professor Snape. She placed herself on her hands and knees and stared hard at the floor in confusion and embarrassment. Tears welled up in her eyes. Now she was the one searching for something that wasn't there. An escape.

Severus had come to realize too that the potion was wearing off and the girl before him was ashamed. Who wouldn't be, she had kissed him, after all. But, he had taught her a lesson. That was what he sought out to accomplish. Correct?

He decided to start the conversation. "I believe you are better now, Miss Granger?"

Her face was turned to the ground.

She could hear his question though she didn't know how to respond. She had just done something way out of line. Worse yet, she had done something she couldn't inform Ron or Harry of. This secret- who knew how long it would eat at her for. She cursed herself for making such a stupid mistake. As she despaired, she remembered the feeling of his rough lips on hers and her heart beat faster. _Was she still feeling the effects?_

She looked up at her professor just to make sure. He was staring blankly back at her, just like he always had. _At least he wasn't affected…_

Her doe eyes confused him. What was she seeking? Reprimand? Reward? Something else? He couldn't place his mind on it and this confounded him. He could understand logic and potions, but emotions- they frustrated him. So he took the easy way out, as he often had. "Back to your dorm Miss Granger." She flinched out of a daze. " _Now!_ " He commanded.

She was up on her feet running for the door. Before he blinked, she was gone. Along with all of the warmth in the room.

* * *

She ran with her heart pounding in her ears. _Her first real kiss! Taken by a professor! **Professor Snape!**_ Why did she feel slightly giddy about all of this? Or was she nauseous from repulsion? She sputtered into the Gryffindor common room as she saw Harry and Ron lounging on the couch by the fireplace.

"Bloody hell Hermione! Where have you been?" Ron questioned. "Look at her nose Harry! It's like Rudolf!"

Harry chuckled at the comment, "It does. Why do you look so flushed Hermione?" He asked with a hint of concern. Then he stiffened, "Is something wrong?"

Hermione shook her head vehemently "No. Nothing's wrong. Just out for a late night run. That's all." She cleared her throat. "G'night, then." She said before she dashed to her bedroom.

"G'night, then." The boys said in unison.

"Something fishy there." Ron said with a scrunched up expression. Harry nodded. Both of their eyes were set on her bedroom door.

* * *

He wasn't a virgin in any sense of the word, but there was something about her innocent face wrapped in yearning that left him with a similar feeling of unknowing in his stomach. He had identified for a long time what his future held, laid out like a chess board before him since the death of the red haired girl he once watched from the bushes. He was bound by Dumbledore, and bound by the green ghost of Lily in Potter's eyes. There was only one way, there had always been one way and twinge of the dark mark on his forearm was a constant reminder. Yet, auburn eyes found him and offered a welcome break in the droning chess. Finally some entertainment had appeared in this prison of a school. Sometimes he didn't know if he was keeper of the dungeons or the dungeons kept him.

Sleep often eluded him, and that night was no exception. Morning came and again it was time for the students to file into the potions room. He wondered, as his coal colored eyes scanned the room, whether the bushy haired girl would raise her hand quite as often today. Or, would she try to cover her mishap by spouting more mindless book facts? The image that came to mind brought a sneer to Snape's face. Harry and Ron caught it and looked at each other in discontent.

Ron whispered, "You reckon he's got something more wrenched than Gurdyroots in store for us today?"

Harry responded silently, "Good thing Hermione caught that cold after all." Ron gulped and nodded.

 _Juvenile._ Snape thought, _Don't they know how to cast_ muflatio _if they don't want to be heard?_ Then he realized just what they had said. The girl rarely missed a chance to recite her scraps of knowledge, what had happened last night? The potion she generated certainly had chances of side effects, nothing too severe. He tapped his fingers on the desk in thought, as he listed possible outcomes. The students took this as a gesture for silence. He looked down to them with the constant mask-like expression, shifting focus, "Let us begin."

* * *

Hermione was not physically sick, though her stomach felt like she was falling. There was guilt. She had always tried to be a perfect student, maybe she felt like she had something to prove coming from the muggle world. She was proud of being a witch and of the praise that came from many of her teachers at Hogwarts. Only one professor throughout her schooling here had not come to offer any words of academic reinforcement. She had made out with him last night. Her face plunged into the infirmary ward pillow at the thought. It was the only way she could receive a legitimate escape from classes that day. She had entered with a potions injury complaint, which wasn't really a lie. She didn't know why, maybe the potion altered her memories but it felt good to think about it. Was this the form of commendation that she had been seeking? She couldn't move. She couldn't go to that potions class again, not after such a mistake. Wasn't there some other teacher? The light was fading outside. Hermione lay on her stomach, staring over the pillow at the hues of the clouds shifting from pink and purple in the sunset. The stars were starting to peek out and the smell turkey was wafting in from the hallway. It was dinnertime. She heard Madam Pomfrey speaking to someone in the background. It would be time to go soon. Then she heard the voice speak back and she recognized its deep eloquence. Her professor. She squeezed the pillow. And here she was in her nightgown! She heard his boots echoing on the castle floor towards her bedside.

He spoke, "You aren't one to play sick, Miss Granger. Madam Pomfrey said that she could find no signs of illness with you. Yet, this is my area of expertise. Shall I check you?" Her face flushed. There was no way that she could turn to face him.

"Miss Granger, are you feigning sleep now as well?" He placed a hand on her shoulder. She rolled over to reveal a guilty, vulnerable face. He decided to prod some more. "Come now, let me look at you." He gestured for her to sit up. She complied. He sat beside her and felt at her lymph nodes. Goosebumps rose beneath his fingers. Was this an adverse reaction? He had only wanted her to admit her falsity, though he did not know why he felt driven to do so. Maybe it was because he was living a lie and he wanted someone else to divulge a dark truth, something he would never be capable of. Or maybe, he wanted her to build on her lies and sink to the depths where he existed. No, even if she were tarnished, that Gryffindor spirit would let her shine like the gold on the emblem. It was no wonder that black was a Slytherin color, much like the souls of many of its members. Whenever someone in the dark sees a glimmering light, they can't help but reach for it. He began to covet that glow, with Lily. He pulled his hands back into the darkness.

"You're fine, Miss Granger. As expected." He said in a monotone voice.

She looked at the floor, "You were just playing with me. You knew I was fine."

She said with consternation. He couldn't help but smirk.

"Your punishment for skipping class." Abruptly, he got up from the bed." I expect to see you tomorrow." He said in a teacher's tone.

"But, professor, there are no classes on Saturday." She responded.

"Always citing the facts." He retorted with a shadow of a smile on his face, "But, this is for detention." With that, he turned on the heel of his boot, his coat following behind him as he walked out of the infirmary, leaving her bereft.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione never had a hint of detention in her life, yet here she was standing in front of the dungeon door. She didn't notice how long she was inspecting the woodwork before she heard a voice from inside.

"Enter." Her professor commanded. She obeyed.

Snape examined the slight feminine frame of the figure before him, illuminated from behind by the candle light in the hallway. When had she grown? She looked at the cauldron on the long table at the front of the room, a variety of ingredients splayed to each side. Before being told what to do, fear of the possibility began to grow in her stomach.

"You will correctly generate the potion that you so miserably failed at the other night." He directed. She swallowed, she was right. Visuals and sensations of that failure came to mind for the instant that she looked into her professor's eyes. No emotion betrayed his face. She looked at the stone floor.

"Sir, I'm not…"

"I will accept no excuses related to Weasley or Potter." He interjected.

She looked back at him, perturbed. "I was just trying to help a friend."

He came towards her. "Does your friend have trouble with occlumency?"

Hermione fought back any sign of emotion. Her professor knew that she was trying to aid Harry in his training sessions by giving him a potion to shield his mind from intrusion.

Snape continued as he paced around her. "The mind is quite an easy thing to control, and its intentions can be very separate from the heart, or other parts of the body." He paused. "When you attempt to control the functions of the mind, there are various states. Rather than preventing intrusion, your potion permitted it. It permitted the thought of the very first person you saw to pervade it so strongly that it could be felt all throughout your body. Could it not, Miss Granger?"

"Y-yes, sir." She stammered, forcing herself to prevent recalling that night's events.

"Yes." He affirmed. "So, you admit that you don't believe he's capable of developing the skills to prevent my intrusion into his thoughts?

"No!" She shouted, "he just looked so tired…" She could see his drained face and limp body climbing back to the Gryffindor tower.

"Do you find yourself more competent?" He questioned and before she had a chance to think of a reply, he was within her mind. Wave after wave of image flew before her eyes and she could feel him examining each one. Surprising to her, they were all of professor Snape. First she watched his robes flowing in a determined stride in the hallway, then he was making a potion change color, the image switched to him holding a wand with a proper stance sending sparks of green at a snake, Soon he was chiding her and suddenly his lips were on hers. She forced him out and took a step back. He seemed confused at first as well, and then he came to an answer.

"A side-effect of the potion," he said almost to himself, "It caused me to pervade your mind so much that when I perform occlumency it will only reveal thoughts of me…"

She was startled at first. "Will this occur for everyone who tries it on me?"

"No." He stated confidently. "It requires my touch."

* * *

Snape had been silent in thought, thinking of possible uses for this concoction. Granger's blunder may have actually created a new potion. He wished he could be so lucky with all of Longbottom's mistakes. But, as useful as it may be in his endeavors with Voldemort, his stomach couldn't help but flip at the very thought of what that would be like- another Bellatrix. He flinched at the notion. Hermione noticed the exaggerated sneer on her Professor's face, thinking it was in response to his intrusion.

"Those memories trouble me as well, sir." She said with her face scrunched, looking awkwardly aside.

"Conceited girl," The side of his mouth upturned, "not all of my physiological responses are about you."

She looked at him, at first confused, then a bit abashed for thinking so. Was that the flicker of a smile?

"Change of plans." He broke the silence, "God forbid we have another one of those potions floating around the castle. Instead, I will guide you in making the appropriate occlumency-shielding potion and you will tell me where you so surreptitiously screwed up." She winced. "Then," he persisted, "we will continue to have training sessions to see whether or not these effects are lasting and if they can be altered."

The Hermione a few days ago would protest, but now the idea of additional time with her Professor seemed to stir up feelings akin to excitement. It was odd. But in that anticipation was a tinge of fear, exactly how long would these effects last? Were her feelings gradually escalating due to the potion? Either way, Professor Snape's probing was the only foreseeable answer.

"Come." He instructed as he glided over to the table with the cauldron and ingredients. "I assume you have memorized the chapter, show me what to do." She followed and picked up the wormwood. He observed. She placed it into the pot and set a low flame. Then, she proceeded to pull the petals from the asphodel and dropped them in as well. She measured and stirred in the appropriate amount of elixir when she moved on to chopping hemlock roots.

"Stop!" He interrupted and she froze. He came up behind her. "You are doing it much too roughly, there are bits flying everywhere." He placed his hand over hers on the knife and demonstrated the smooth fluid motion. "Gently, as to not damage the vascular cambium." As he spoke, she could feel the vibrato on her back from his words breathed in her hair. She did not know Snape could be associated with gentle. The closeness was causing something to pool within and beneath her waist. He had prompted her hand over hand for the rest of the potion until it was a silvery, swirling substance.

Hermione then noted a difference in execution. "The book said to use something of the person that was trying to penetrate your mind so that it would be reflected back at them. How come we didn't add anything?"

Her Professor looked perplexed and then the answer came to him. "You read the oldest book on the subject, because you thought it would yield the best results?"

She nodded, "I have found the methods of older books to be tried and true, since they are closer to the roots of magic."

"I have bad news for you." He smirked, "The book that you chose was in the restricted section of the library, was it not?" Her face appeared frightened at being found out. "Admonishable. 30 points from Gryffindor." He chided, just because it was so fun to tease her, and to show her in fact how much she did not know. How foolish acts of bravery would get her nowhere. "This book was used secretly by witches. It is written in codes, using one spell for another that could not be done during a time of repression. I would suggest not attempting anything else from that book because what you see, is not what you will get." After reaching that conclusion he had another question to ask. He shifted his stance to one of accusation, "Now, what did you take of mine, and how did you get it?"

She balked. He continued, "I recall how you seemed to purposefully bump into me by the doorway on the way out of class the other day."

"I-it was your hair, I saw a strand on your robe pocket. It would have fallen off anyway. Please, I apologize for that." Her eyes were round and the light seemed to find new places to reflect within them.

What did he care about a strand of hair, really? It was so unimportant that her concern was laughable. But, her expression made him seek more. "You really are a naughty girl, aren't you Miss Granger," Oh yes, he was going to make a list, "going into the restricted section." She closed her eyes, "stealing from a Professor," her body cringed, "and-" he was curious about the response to this one, "making out with a Head of House."

She opened her eyes and they both stared at each other. Really, he thought she would have run crying out of the dungeon like so many of his students. The crimson bloomed across her cheeks like a cherry orchard. They both seemed to be expecting something, but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. He hadn't been equipped with the right experience. So he resorted to what he did know, "Another 30 points from Gryffindor. And this detention is over, Miss Granger, you are dismissed." He turned and his robes followed. As he approached the door to his room, he could feel her eyes upon him.

He glanced back at her still form. "I do not presume you would like to come in for a spot of tea." He said derisively. Her eyes seemed to brighten at the possibility of invitation. "That was sarcasm, Miss Granger. I already bade you good day, and I shall say it again. Now, leave before I take all of your house points." He said bitingly. That seemed to get the point across, she nodded and left swiftly without a word. He stood absentmindedly watching the door from which she had left for a while before entering his chambers.


	5. Chapter 5

The time had come for one of their training sessions. Meanwhile Snape had been upholding his promise by training Potter to the best of his ability. He had to admit, the boy was something of a failure. He was curious to see how Hermione faired and whether the potion would continue to stake its claim over her mind during his occlumency. It had been about a week, and the girl had stuck to her usual school routines. However, she did not raise her hand as much to recite blocks of text. Perhaps she had learned the value of experience. Without that constant interruption, he had found her presence more enjoyable in class. He glanced at the clock. She was late, and he did not like to be kept waiting.

At first he thought she had lost track of time. Then he remembered whom he was dealing with and grew something similar to concerned for the girl. Just as he exited the room to find and berate her, he caught her limping and bracing herself against the wall towards the dungeon. His anger abandoned him and he rushed towards her to offer an arm. She looked up at him shyly. Her didn't wait for her reply and decidedly swept her up and set her down on a potion table. He closed and charmed the door. He knew who was responsible. "Let me see your feet." He instructed. She hesitated until his dark eyes met hers and she held one out. "Umbridge." He said under his breath noting the burn marks around her heals. "She said I needed to be more ladylike and made me wear these stupid burning pumps." Hermione was strong, but he could hear the tears building from indignation. "I tried to be here on time-"

Snape interrupted, "As you would have been if that toad hadn't-"

Hermione laughed as a tear streaked down her cheek.

"What's so funny?" Snape queried.

"You called her a toad." She smiled.

"You're right," Snape responded, "that would be insulting to amphibians."

Hermione laughed again and her tears seemed to be drying.

Snape admired seeing this new perspective before speaking, "I'll get the dittany. And I assure you, you're already womanly."

He returned with the salve and helped apply it to her wounds. "Do you, really think so?" He heard Hermione ask meekly.

Snape felt uneasy, why had he been so open towards this girl? That always led to bad things. He needed to cover his tracks. "I'm just pointing out that the punishment was inappropriate and unwarranted."

Hermione could see the visible change in his demeanor; he was stolid and almost mechanical in his actions. He had closed a door and she wanted it open again. He was kneeling by her feet; packing up the ditanny while one free hand was on the table. She grasped it gently and when his eyes met hers she smiled warmly, "Thank you."

He nodded curtly and stood up. Now towering over her, he felt he had returned to his usual self. "Well Miss Granger, we should not waste a perfectly good evening of practice. Are you ready?"

They were at it for what seemed like hours. She tried to think of anything but Severus Snape but the memories felt as if they were attracted to his hand. Then something new, he began to view one of the fantasies she had about the Potion's Master. They were in the supply room, and he barely got a glimpse at it before her mind became a smooth surface. They were both back in their respective heads.

"That did not happen, Miss Granger." He said with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"No, sir." She blushed.

"But, you would like it to?" He questioned.

Either way it was a trap. "No, sir." She repeated, casting her eyes away from his examining glare.

"Look at me Miss Granger." He commanded and she obeyed. "Then, why would it be on your mind?"

The silence was broken by an announcement by Umbridge throughout the castle. "Hem, hem, attention students, it is now curfew and anyone seen roaming the halls with or without an escort will be punished accordingly. That is all, nighty night."

Hermione's jaw dropped in panic and she started speaking quickly, "I can't get back! It'll be ten times worse than those heels! What do I do?"

Snape put a hand over his mouth and chin in thought. This was certainly an awkward predicament; he thought he had gotten used to that with working under Dumbledore. He listened to Hermione rattle on for a while before barely stating, "Miss Granger, there is a couch."

"Couch?" She sounded confused. He couldn't let her go out after she had come in damaged by the deranged defense against the dark arts teacher. Gods.

"Yes. Under these extreme circumstances it is a viable solution. That is unless you prefer your chances in the halls." Hermione blushed. Snape swallowed. He needed to maintain control to help her feel safe. Perhaps professor mode was best. "You and I have no choice in the matter, and don't believe that I enjoy this anymore than you do."

* * *

She could hardly feel the pain in her heels due to the words of her Professor catalyzing a rush of blood through her veins; she could hear it echoing in her ears. Hermione did not dare risk going out in the halls, and there was no way that she could make a dash for the Gryffindor tower in her condition. There was no Harry with a magic cloak to hide her, no Ron to make light of the unnerving situation. Her eyes sought reassurance in the Potion Master's, yet they offered no hints.

She swallowed as she decided on a course of action, "If you will allow it, sir." She said in a dry voice. Was she correct? Would she be punished for her assumptions?

He did not appear glad; he did not seem angry, simply indifferent with a light sneer on his face. Years of wearing the expression had worn a line between his brows and beside his thin lips. "I'll show you to your 'room' then." He replied and began walking to the wooden door she had seen him stop at so many days ago. He turned again, "Just to make things perfectly clear, this is not occurring for any reason other than dire circumstances. I do not favor you Miss Granger, in fact I have persistently found you quite the annoyance."

She bristled. Good, that was a reaction he was used to.

He continued, "You are not to touch anything without my permission, and you are not to tell anyone of this night. Do you understand?"

She nodded, curiosity overriding her frustration. He spoke a password under his breath, so low that she could not hear. The door swung open and he strode inside a dark room, steeped in the soft glow of candlelight. She felt cemented to the safety of the floor she had known and walked for many years. "You can sleep on the dungeon tables if you like." Came his deep voice from inside the chambers. She glanced at their hard, cool surfaces and contemplated the action before acknowledging how unforgiving they would be. She decided to take a chance, and inched forward into Professor Snape's chambers.

The air seemed to change, along with the typical feeling of oppressiveness. It smelled of cedar and shoe polish, unusually clean and masculine. She could smell flames and looked to her right to see them crackling in a vast fireplace. 'Her' Slytherin-colored couch was in front of it, seemingly long enough to fit three people, though she doubted that her Professor entertained. It seemed comfortable enough. While he was in the bathroom, she couldn't help but glance around. There were no frames on the walls, and everything was kept rather tidy. Bookshelves held a vast supply of magical knowledge. And there in the middle was his king sized bed with plush sheets to match the décor of the couch. Beside the bed there was a book with something like a page marker sticking out of the middle. Questioning what topics piqued her Professor's interests, she looked at the binding for a title yet there was none. She decided to pick it up to open to the cover page, when something small and white and fragile fell to the floor.

"Did you not hear my rules or did you just chose not to abide by them?" Snape's accusing voice was in her ear. She nearly dropped the book, but put it quickly back on the bedside table. She turned and was caught between his body and the bed. He bent over to pick up the object, a pressed flower, was it- a lily? He placed in the table drawer.

She could go off of that to distract him, "I just wanted to see what you seemed to be researching. By chance, does it have anything to do with the magical properties of flowers?" Her voice was shaking.

He chuckled at first, which grew into a dark laugh. Looks like she made the wrong choice. He held up the book, "This, Miss Granger, is a novel on the illegal uses of unicorn blood throughout history." A pause. "But, since you are so interested in other topics," He tossed the hardback aside, landing with a thud, pages splayed. "Yes." He continued. "Flowers are very magical things." He was pressing towards her and she tried to step back, but her body was against the frame of the bed. "Very beautiful, intoxicating, fleeting. They bud, they bloom and they die. Yet, that is their purpose." She sensed that he wasn't talking about a garden. "You can nurture them all you want, but as soon as a single virulent spore takes hold, there is no hope." There was a torrent of emotions seeping out of a face that was often a blank canvas. It was disconcerting. "They wilt, they wither, they turn to dust, and you struggle to remember how stunning they truly were in vivacity…" Her elbows were bent to hold her up and her back was arched over the edge of the bed.

On the bed, his hands where outside of hers and his face was very close. He was breathing heavily and fighting to place all of those images, those feelings in the back of his mind, at the bottom of his heart where they would always remain as he had promised.

Hermione's face was riddled with fear and other emotions he didn't wish to decipher. He stood up and took a step back, taking the time to straighten his robes. She was able to stand now, but her knees were weak. It was a girl. He was talking about a girl, someone he must have loved or deeply cared for. She felt it couldn't be a family member, not with his passionate speech. Perhaps most important of all, she had been gone from the world for some time now, but the pain was fresh and tangible. She cautiously reached out for his upper arm, fingers shaking.

He could feel her warm palm, and flinched at her touch. He looked at her in anger and confusion. He was dealing with a Gryffindor; so he could easily read her expression. That witch knew. She had the gift of intuition, but how much did she know? He wasn't comfortable with letting someone other than Dumbledore in on his little secret.

"Speak, Granger." He commanded.

"I'm sorry, Professor." She warbled, "I'm sorry for your loss." A hot tear was trailing down her cheek, inciting the fury within him.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezing tightly, "Why are you crying, and what do you know of my loss? What do you know of my sacrifices? I don't need your assuming, self-righteous pity!" His yell trailed into a choked voice.

Her dewy auburn eyes looked at him with unwavering concern and indignation. "You're right, I don't know." She acknowledged. "But, perhaps, I would like to."

He let her arms drop. There was stifling silence. "It appears to be my turn to apologize, Miss Granger." He strained. She nodded in acceptance. Snape clarified, "Yet, I do not wish to examine this subject any further tonight."

"I understand." Her voice was growing more composed.

No matter how much he would have liked to have been the mean old Potion's Master and send her fleeing for safety, they were stuck in this arrangement for the night. He would have to make her feel at ease somehow. She seemed to have the same notion and spoke up, "I like a cup of tea before bed," He didn't know from where she drew strength, "would you care to join me on the sofa? We could watch the fire."

The corner of his mouth upturned, "Asking me if I would like to sit on my own furniture? I most assuredly will oblige." He stated mockingly. She smiled meekly. "And, I take mine black."


	6. Chapter 6

To eliminate the option of delving into any more unwanted conversation, Snape surreptitiously added a drop of dreamless sleep to the girl's tea. Before drifting off he heard her mumble something to the like of, "I'm glad I got to know a little more about you, Professor."

Was he glad? He was unsure of how to feel, especially when he had put on such a show of vulnerability to an adolescent, his student. He did not have much fluency in trust, and he certainly could not place it in her young mind. Ignorance was bliss. That was why decided continuing down the same path would lead to ruin for both him and the girl. He had to end their training sessions, stop exploring her mind and treat her as he would any other scholar. That was right he told himself, she was no different. As he was sipping his tea he could feel pressure on his left shoulder. She had fallen asleep on his arm. He cast a glance down at her young face; eyelids heavy, lips slightly parted. 

_If she were a flower,_ he mused, _she would merely be a bud._ Nevertheless, he could not deny the promise of the woman to come. He let her lie there as he stared into the embers of the fire, the light in the room fading, until he had finished his tea.

"-Granger." A familiar voice echoed in her ears. "Miss Granger." It became more of a command. Her eyelids fluttered open to see her Professor standing over her in black robes with brass buttons. Her eyes became wider as she recalled where she was, but she couldn't remember falling asleep. "Welcome to the world of the living." He continued, "It is almost time for breakfast. You will inform your friends that you spent the night in the library due to Umbridge's meddling decree. Go quickly to the dining hall, I have made sure that no one is in sight." For some reason she felt a knot in her stomach, it was as if she had just gotten here, just been given a glimpse of something other than the sneering persona, and she didn't want to be another member of the classroom where that was all she would know. "Go now." He instructed. She did so, noting that her feet where fully recovered.

"Thank you, for last night." She smiled briefly and exited before he could respond that there would be no more.

As time went on, Hermione realized that she could never again be like her classmates in seeing the 'greasy git' as Ron would put it. Although he had ended every furtive meeting between them in her fifth year, much to her chagrin, she continued to hear of Harry's progression in occulumency. They were sitting at the dinner table when he shared the tale of entering Snape's memories. Hermione nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. _Lily-_ she thought, _Wasn't Harry's mother...?_ While Ron and Harry were exchanging words about it, she couldn't help but glance up at the teacher's table.

Snape could feel eyes boring into him. He cast a scornful look in the general direction, noting Hermione's flushed face speckled with distress and knowing. _Oh, good,_ he thought as he returned to examining his plate. _Potter has shared with the world what a hero his father was._ But, what was that awareness in her eyes?

From that point on, the boys noted extra precaution when mentioning Snape around Hermione. She would throw in a 'Professor' or add a reason as to why circumstances may not appear to be what they were. During the late summer, after the downfall of Dolores Umbridge, discovery of the prophecy, and loss of loved ones came a darkness that seemed to be closing in on the group of three. Harry and Dumbledore were out collecting Horace Slughorn whilst Ron and Hermione were having a talk of the usual suspects at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

He was growing tired of her attention to detail and blurted without much thought, "What, do you have a crush on the dungeon bat?" He was too busy elbowing her and laughing to examine her response.

Her face flushed and she swallowed hard, she thought of a typical response, "How could anyone have a crush on a professor? Even if they were less grimy, it would be uncouth."

"Uncouth indeed, Miss Granger." came a deep, venomous voice from the stairwell outside of the doorway. Her heart raced and she stood up from her seat on the floor at his entrance. Ron shuffled to his feet as well. "Not that you will be of any help, but I have an important message to convey to Headmaster Dumbledore. When will he return?" His voice was acid. She didn't know one person could make her feel so cold. She felt positively horrible and ashamed of herself for trying to fit Ron's stupid idea of a normal person. She couldn't bring herself to respond and pulled at the hem of her shirt. Ron was never one to talk in front of his favorite professor, so he stayed silent as well. 'Speak up!' Hermione thought desperately. Snape glided forward, "No one? Very well then, I shall await his arrival downstairs." He turned keeping his hand on the doorframe. "And do keep your hormones to yourselves."

After he disappeared, Hermione's stomach flipped. Ron was scratching the back of his head as he chuckled, "Sorry 'Mione." She wanted to hit him.

Night had fallen and Ron was asleep in the bedroom he shared with Harry, pending his return. Hermione crept softly down the stairs hoping to get a glass of milk before bed. Many things worried her, and sleep did not come as easy as it did to the boy who had trained himself to do so amid the snores of several brothers and sisters. She was in her nightgown as she saw Professor Snape leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. "A cup of tea before bed?" He sneered, letting her know that he had information gathered on the girl.

"A cup of milk, actually." She responded humbly. Should she approach him in apology? How could she meet the needs of the man known as Severus Snape when she didn't know what they were? She took a step forward. His body tensed. She stayed and spoke gently, "I did not mean what I said earlier." He twitched. "No, I mean, not that I have a crush on you or anything," She continued, "but, you are not a grimy man. I was just trying to throw Ron off."

Some tension appeared to leave Snape's body. "Now, why would you want to do that?"

Hermione caught the curiosity in her Professor's dark eyes. "I really don't have an answer for that." She stated genuinely.

"So, Miss Granger, what do you think of me?" Snape took a step forward.

She stood her ground and closed her eyes to envision all of the things she had thought about her Professor. "You are a clean and masculine man, though your outward appearance may not always suggest such things. You are cunning, intelligent, self-sufficient and trustworthy."

"Trustworthy?" He took another step towards her, nearly bridging the gap between them. He put a rough hand up to her throat. "Here I am in the dark with my hand wrapped around the neck of a girl in her nightgown. Does that suggest such a description?"

She fevered at the feeling of his large, elegant hand completely encasing her. He hadn't known the various daydreams she had acted out whilst in and out of his class, although, this one was new. "Yes." She replied slightly choked. "Because I know you."

Wordlessly, he pressed her lithe body against the wall, one hand at her neck and the other on her shoulder. "You know nothing." He spat silently. He could feel the blood pulsing hard through her carotid artery. _If this was due to fear, why did her face not show it?_

She either belonged in Slytherin, or, this girl was enjoying it.

Her skin was soft, her hair hung loosely over his hands and she gazed up at him with something akin to wanting. The little bud was beginning to unfurl. That look echoed the one he had seen when this all began. The one that had made him ache to explore her further. If he stood there any longer, his hands would begin to move on their own.

He yearned to show her how little she knew, about many things. Astuteness intact- he smoothly let her go. "And I will not have you begging me to know, either."

* * *

It wasn't long before the new term had begun had Hogwarts. Although she kept her eyes and ears open for Harry and Ron, she had her own interest to pursue and his name was Professor Snape. No longer in charge of Potions now the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a position she could tell he had pride in assuming. Her world was changing, and this was another symbol of how the safety of her routine was crumbling around her. Ever the Gryffindor, she kept steadfast and strong while accepting and trying to understand the differences that were arising within and around her. She had to admit, there was a time when she had butterflies for her red-headed friend, but that felt like a childhood crush now due to the passion resounding from what she liked to think were more adult encounters with her Professor. The fantasy about the potion's storage closet would have to go now; she wondered what new ones would arise from D.A.D.A. Sometimes, it was nice pretending to be a simple schoolgirl unaware of the war outside.

Perhaps within the first class Hermione could spot what kind of man Horace Slughorn was. Sure, he was knowledgeable and friendly. Anyone who met him might assume he was a Hufflepuff if they didn't investigate further. But he was a trophy collector, the kind of man who would ignore someone if they didn't catch the light quite right. She made sure to polish herself as to keep on his good side since she knew Harry was already within his graces. Her heart went out to Ron.

Soon it was time for the first D.A.D.A class of the year. As in Potion's, her Professor stood solemnly in front of the class watching the students pour in with disdain on his lips as if none of them could live up to his expectations. She could feel a deep desire for approval wash over her.

"Good afternoon class." He spoke as if nothing were good about it, "Welcome to your first intelligible class on Defense Against the Dark Arts." He paced back and forward while he spoke, like a panther looking at prey. "Do I have a volunteer for a demonstration?" As always, Hermione's arm had the reflex to shoot up. Yet, she knew he wasn't accepting willing volunteers. "Mr. Jordan," he spotted a vulnerable one, "we shall start out easy. Come show the class how to defend against a leg locking curse." Before Lee Jordan could step onto the stage, Snape spoke, " _Locomotor Mortis_." Hermione noted the execution, and the way his biceps bunched and his back arched like releasing an arrow. His robes moved against the flow of his body. It took effect quickly.

"You cast it before he could approach you." Hermione stated almost as an afterthought.

Snape took it as her speaking against an injustice. "That is how dark magic will come at you Miss Granger. I believe I saw your hand before. Scratch that, I don't even have to look to know it's in the air. So, since you find yourself more suited, would you care to exhibit your skills?"

She took a breath through her nose. Her wand was ready in her hand, she knew he would cast it before she acknowledged. She barely nodded before she became locked in a dance of sparks between them. He would cast and she would counter for several seconds when he derided, "Adequate, Miss Granger." This was enough to throw her off when he sent a _Pertificus Totalus_ her way. She could feel something like ropes entwining and tightening around her body as she fell to her knees at her Professor's feet.

She looked up at him and could feel the blood rising to her cheeks. The way he was standing over her brought her a new perspective of submission, almost like she was bowing to a master. His dark eyes seem to mirror the sentiment. She began to struggle against the binding; she was embarrassed to show this face, this position for the enjoyment of the class. She could catch Harry out of the corner of her eye sending a spell in Snape's direction. He deflected it and sneered, "It appears that Mr. Potter knows how to attack like a dark wizard." The bell rang to break the silence. "Class dismissed. Get out." Snape announced. Harry and Ron were moving forward to aid their friend. "That means you. Unless you want to see me in detention for the stunt you pulled." He continued.

She noted Harry's narrowed brow and Ron's concern as they slowly retreated. "It'll be alright Hermione." They murmured before exiting.

Snape knelt down beside her on the stage. "Try to relax, Miss Granger. It gets tighter if you struggle." He stated.

"I could have if I didn't show the world how I look on my knees!" Her voice broke.

He sighed and placed a hand on her head. She began to settle under his touch, able to move her digits again.

"It should only be a matter of time now." He assured. There was a silence between them as the spell was unraveling. "I would apologize under other circumstances, yet there are some things you can only learn through experience."

She was free now, although it looked like he didn't quite know it yet. Her Gryffindor nerve got a hold of her, "Experience." She stated before lunging at her Professor to place a swift kiss on his lips. "I'd like to develop that further." She took off, leaving him without comment, brushing the place where she had been with his fingertips.

 _So you can stun without a spell._ He thought briefly.


	7. Chapter 7

Time was moving forward at an alarming pace. Harry had discovered some _mystery_ book that was allowing his effortless success in Potions. Hermione had wanted to prove to herself that she was just as capable as the author of the scribbles in the book that she had assumed was a witch. That was until she examined the writing. It was then that she realized how slow-witted the two boys she associated herself with could really be. After all, the man had written in more red ink on their papers than he ever had on hers. Shouldn't they recognize the handwriting of Severus Snape? She would let them discover that one on their own. Yet this recognition for her cemented how truly gifted the man was and the votive candle within her only glowed brighter.

The Slug Club was one of the unfortunate side effects of her success in Potions, especially since Harry did not accompany her and Ron simply could not. She was sipping cocoa in one of the cozy arm chairs when the Professor proclaimed, "So it's decided, we shall have a dance!" She must have drifted out of the conversation, nearly choking on her hot drink. "Everyone is free to bring a partner, of any House. Miss Granger, you will tell Harry to join us, won't you?" He gave her a pudgy smile.

"Of course, sir." She smiled back weakly.

 _A dance.'_ She thought as she was walking on her way back to the Gryffindor tower, through the empty halls. _Who would I go with?_ echoed in her mind. Suddenly, she saw the familiar black robes billowing up from the end of the hallway. She let the thought cross her mind of asking Professor Snape. When imagining his enthusiastic response, she couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.

By this time Snape was alongside her, observing the pure adolescent giddiness. Surely it was an oddity to be seen on a normally mature and composed Miss Granger. He couldn't help but pry. "Did I miss the joke?" He queried.

She appeared startled and somewhat shy, "No, Professor. I was merely imaging what it will be like at Slughorn's ball."

His stomach turned sour. Was she about to become another scatterbrained teenager caught in the throes of pubescent conceptions of love? He didn't want the potential she had to be wasted on someone undeserving, a meaningless boy. His lips became a fine line of disapproval. Perhaps his presence would solve the problem. "Yes, I will be there as well as a faculty advisor." He stated.

He noted the brightening of her face rather than the fear or dissent he had anticipated. "Oh." She smiled. "Will you reserve a dance for me, Professor?"

At the moment he could see no harm, "I shall keep you on my card, Miss Granger."

* * *

She could recall the intense look of direction given to her in contrasting accompaniment to the pudgy smile. Professor Slughorn wanted Harry for his ball. However, his frequent meetings with Dumbledore made such an event nearly impossible. Plus, if she had brought it up with Harry it would mean discussing it with Ron and for some reason she didn't feel like seeing him at the dance. Was it because her Professor of interest would get the wrong idea? The prospect was likely and it almost felt like she had already asked him and he had surprisingly accepted. Now, Hermione was a smart girl and she was running over the implications of her developing feelings for the mystery that was Severus Snape. If it had only been a crush, she would have ditched the idea long ago, or at least decided not to act upon it. Yet, she was drawn to him with a curiosity and desire that caused her stomach to turn at night. There was unspeakable danger; she could sense it just being around the man. His guard was high and his patience with was short. Something was taking from him and leaving him with just enough vitality to function under the safety and comfort of a façade. It could be seen in the shadows around his eyes. She grasped bits of information over the years, but it felt like she was reading a book in the dark with a match that was fading. She couldn't get all of the information and with this war looming, she felt that the match would be snuffed out and she would never be able to finish the novel that could have been her favorite. Right now it was burning her fingertips.

The night had come. She did feel a bit giddy in the purple dress that Parvati had lent her. Hermione also felt Slytherin in lying when her friend had asked about the date, but not many Gryffindors would be there and they could speculate for all she cared. You could tell that the dress did not belong to her, the way that it plunged to peek at her cleavage, and hugged her in all the right places. This was a far cry from the loose fitting robes that she favored. Yet, the way that the fabric shimmered made her feel that for a night she could be a princess from the muggle stories. The girls had helped her with her hair and makeup as well, adding to the effect in soft shades of plum. It was only until after she had left the tower that Ron had heard the story with the stomp of a foot.

On her way to the ball, Hermione spotted Harry spying around one of the castle corners. _Bingo._ She thought. She grabbed him by the arm and tugged him along at her pace.

"Blimey! Just what do you think you're doing?" Harry hissed in a whisper, "I was trying to catch what Draco was up to!"

"Brilliant." said Hermione, "I know for a fact that he should be appearing at the Slug Club Ball, at least for a brief while."

Harry's sour face turned into a smile. "Oh." He said.

Hermione pointed her wand in his direction, "You'll need some proper attire." She spoke with a spell. Suddenly, his clothes were shifting into fine wizard's dress robes.

"Thanks again, Hermione." Harry said as he put an arm around his friend's shoulder, entering the ball.

"Ah!" They were greeted by a round, jovial Slughorn, "Hermione has brought a special guest tonight! My two star pupils, together!" He raised a glass merrily. Eyes were upon them.

Hermione and Harry exchanged surprised glances and his arm dropped swiftly. They both laughed at the awkwardness. She could feel one pair of eyes in particular boring into her.

Snape certainly had not expected this. First it was the redhead and now Potter? _**Potter?**_ Sure she was dedicated to her friends but wasn't there a line between dedication and decency? His robes whipped up as he curled one arm around the other. He kept watch over the adolescents from a spot on the wall near a large stained glass window. This flower of his, he noticed, was beginning to show its petals.

As soon as Harry had let go of her arm, Slughorn's arm was on his, off to parade him around to the various attendees. Hermione gave him a glance of sympathy. Then, her eyes came to the direction where she had felt the intensity before. There was Severus Snape, looking almost like a disgruntled teenager at a high school dance from one of the 80's movies her mother had shown her. She cautiously walked in his direction, chatting with others along the way as to not be so obvious in her intentions. Soon her back came to rest against the same stone wall as his. He did not look at her; she did not look at him.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hermione questioned.

"I can't recall the sentiment." replied Snape to the air, "Perhaps you and Potter are getting along famously?"

Hermione's head jerked in his direction, a look of abrupt confusion on her face. What emotion was there a hint of in that sentence her Professor had just spoken? Was it jealousy or teacherly concern? Was she just hoping? Her head swiveled forward as she stated, "He's not my date, if that's what you're asking." She could see him merely swallow as she glimpsed up at him. He glanced down at her and their eyes met as he slowly held out a rough hand. Her small hand seemed swallowed in his as a new song was beginning, a waltz.

His hand fit well on the small of her back while hers was reaching; just a little, to go over his shoulder. His other hand held hers elegantly. He seemed regal in his movements. His robes were nicer than those she had seen in class, the buttons were golden and so was the trim around his collar and cuffs. Everything else of course, was black. She was afraid to speak, to miss a step, to breathe. He could see this in her face, and the sides of his mouth upturned. "What are you happy about?" She smiled, "I'm not the best dancer, you know." He could see her blush. The room and the people in it were a blur beyond their faces as the traveled across the floor. All seemed simple and right with their bodies lightly pressed against one another under the soft glow of candelabras, just secure enough to know that the other was there. That was until the song ended, and a pain was growing in his left forearm. Snape made an effort not to grab at the burning thing as he let go of Hermione. She did not seem too keen on the abrupt detachment.

Hermione noted her Professor's change in demeanor. His face was again covered by a pale mask.

"If you'll excuse me." He stated to her, before treading towards the door. The music flooded her ears again in slow motion. Others were already dancing, and she knew that many of them would relish in the absence of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor. Nevertheless, she that knew something was wrong as her shorter strides were struggling to keep up with his longer ones.

"Professor? **Professor!** " She shouted, imploring him in the dim hallway.

He wrapped his hand around her wrist and tugged her into a dark stairwell. "Hermione, I must go. Tell no one. Alert Dumbledore if I do not return."

She nodded in confusion as he seemed to disapparate, the feeling of his hand still on her wrist.


	8. Chapter 8

" _sSSeverus_ , I see that you have come dressed for the special occasion." A voice was hissing in his ear.

"Yes my lord, I came as soon as you called."

"Not quite, Severus." A wand was pressed against his throat. "Something was keeping you occupied."

He tried to speak normally, "The fool Slughorn had trapped me in one of his hedonistic displays."

"Oh, yes, a stain on the Slytherin name. A coward and traitor is such a waste of pure blood."

There was silence. Emotionless masks examined Snape, shrouded by hoods.

"I will tell you once, Severus, do not keep me waiting."

"Yes my lord, I beg your forgiveness."

The snakelike man studied Severus with a detached look in his red eyes. His wand flicked slightly with a brief movement at his wrist. No words were spoken, but the spell could be felt already coursing through his veins.

"Very well, I will be lenient on your punishment so that you can thoroughly enjoy tonight's demonstration. Don't let anyone say that I wasn't good to you."

"Thank you, my lord."

He knew this one, the curse that began with one cut and continued to multiply. It was slow spreading, but blood loss was imminent. He hoped that whatever event was occurring would end quickly so that he could correct the damage before passing out. He didn't have to wait long to notice an Auror, the father of one of his students, suffering _Cruciatus_. As he watched the green glow in a disconnected manner, he wondered how long that the torture would continue for them both.

* * *

He called her Hermione, and she was left with more questions than answers. Severus Snape had just disappeared, leaving Dumbledore as their last line of correspondence. There was something akin to pain and fear in his eyes, but it was fleeting. _Where was he? Was he alright? Why did no one else care? Did Dumbledore even know or care?_ A hot tear fell from her eye; she caught it in her hand and examined it. This was no time to go soft. There was a high likelihood that the man she cared for was in danger and she needed to figure out how to help. She stumbled out of the stairwell into something hard yet forgiving, it smelled of storage. She took a step back to examine Ron in his old suit from the Yule Ball.

She let out a laugh, "Ron, you can get that updated now you know. We have the magic to do so." Then, she realized why he would need such an outfit. She hesitated, "Ron, you didn't want to go to Slughorn's Ball- did you?"

"Are you asking me?" He looked hopeful.

"No, I'm sorry," She shook her head, "not tonight."

"Didn't you go? You look- nice." He blushed.

She smiled at the compliment. "Thanks Ron, I did, but it's really not the place for me."

"Did your date do something?" He asked defensively.

She looked at him wide eyed, lips slightly parted.

"You know," he continued, "Parvati and Lavender were saying how handsome and dashing he was and I wanted to see for myself."

She giggled a bit. "No, really, don't worry about it."

She felt a freckled hand on her shoulder.

"I could go back in with you, if you'd like."

"Ron…"

"You know I really wish you had gone to the Yule Ball with me instead of Krum. You looked really great that night. And tonight, wow. You've grown."

She was growing uncomfortable with her best friend's advances. "Thanks Ron, but I really don't want to. There's something that I need to work on."

Another freckled hand was placed against the wall, trapping her. She looked up into his clouded cerulean eyes that were traveling her body. She felt a sort of panic at this abnormal attention.

"Mister Weasley, I assure you that the only person who needs to tell the girls of this school how much they have and have not grown is Madame Pomfrey."

She felt relief whelm in her throat and her eyes were growing moist at the familiar, harsh tone.

"10 points from Gryfinndor. Head back to your dormitory; you are not a member of this club."

"But-"

"There will be more taken for each second you waste, Weasley. Now, GO."

"I'll see you back there, 'Mione." Ron said with a shy glance before trotting back towards the Gryffindor tower.

Hermione turned in Snape's direction only to see him slump down to one knee, his robes covering him like a blanket. That announcement seemed to take all of his strength.

"I don't have much time." He stated weakly. "Get me into the Potion's Room. The dungeons are still my quarters, and it has what I will require."

She knelt readily by his side as he placed his weight on her. She struggled to aid him in standing up. She could feel something seeping through the fabric, was he sweating?

"Professor, please tell me what's going on," She tried to relay calmly as they walked, "so that I can help you properly."

He scoffed feebly, "I'm afraid you haven't read about this one in a book. It's a curse that cuts you and continues to do so in multiple locations over an allotted amount of time. My time is up."

She inhaled sharply. There was only one person she could imagine doing this and she did not want to. She couldn't examine the implications now. It was then that she realized the fluid seeping between her fingers wrapped around his waist was not sweat or water; it was his very own blood.

They arrived at the Potion's Room and Hermione was grateful that Slughorn was away. As she examined the classroom with her Professor once again inside it, she couldn't help but yearn for the innocent days when she feared the presence that she had come to love.

"I'm afraid there's no wand magic to cure this." Snape spoke, "This curse was designed specifically for me, since I know potions." He laid out several ingredients over the countertop. "Hermione, start a low fire under the cauldron."

She aided in chopping the roots and stirring the elixir until it was a deep green color and the consistency of filamentous algae. She could tell it was finished but before either of them could move forward with the process; her Professor was slumped on the castle floor, consciousness evading him. Hermione had an inkling that this was going to occur from the amount of blood loss, yet seeing it actually happen was harrowing. She took a second to breathe and think before using her wand to float him into his chambers.

" _Lumos_." She stated, in an attempt to better view her patient. She knew that she could not take him to the infirmary, or he would have gone there first. It was in her hands to finish the job he started. Yet, what should she do with the potion? Was it meant for drink or application? Think, think! She flipped the pages in her mind to the chapter on how to tell what potions are used for. The thicker ones are typically for application, and this one was certainly thick. That would mean…

She now knew why his color of choice was black, it hid the stains well. One could not tell that it was blood that was making his robes appear wet. There was no time to baulk as she peeled back the layer of clothing to reveal the liquid scarlet smeared across a body of marble. This was no ordinary man's body; this was the torso of her long term teacher. It was a man that she had grown to fear, respect and something more. She observed how his muscles stood in definition against his slim frame. Thin black hairs covered his body, sparse on his chest but thicker in areas that she did not divulge herself in inspecting. She felt almost as if she were examining a cadaver for evidence.

This body was corrupted by dark magic, draining more than blood.

Her instincts took over as she took the treatment of her Professor to be something like an assignment. Perhaps he would grade her on his recovery. As she continued to smooth on the elixir, grumbles of gratification and tenderness could be heard from the back of Snape's throat. She recoiled as she approached his left forearm. There, amidst the complexion of white and mending red was the contrasting mark that held the answers. Her flat palm turned into a fist, it was ugliness in its purest form.

" _ **Why?**_ " She asked the unconscious body, her eyes stinging. What could cause such a knowledgeable man to make such a foolish decision? Should she continue to help someone that may very well be her enemy? Should she let him know what she had seen? She swallowed back the tears as the thoughts flooded her mind. As she had stated before, he was not unwise, but should that be enough to trust him?

* * *

The throbbing was becoming more pronounced in his temples, time again to join the world of the living. As his eyes opened to let in a minuscule amount of light, he expected to find himself the useful condition; robes soaked with blood or muscles still twitching from unspeakable curses. However, this was not the case. In its absence was the cagey stare of one tattered Hermione Granger. As Snape opened his mouth to speak Hermione took a step back, a wand clenched in her ready hand. He could see the shades of a dried and faded crimson that clung still to her fingers. It was his. If she had treated him, he could guess why she was in a huff. Time to initiate the conversation.

"What hour is it, Miss Granger?" His voice was parched.

"It should be evening, Professor." She said in a detached, professional manner, "There's water on your bedside table."

He reached for the drink with his left hand, noting the dark mark in full display. He took a sip and swallowed.

"So, you've seen it." He spoke casually. "Not only that," he continued, "but I assume that you continued to treat me after doing so. Why?" His black eyes peered into her cautious ones.

"'Why?' is a question that I have asked myself, and that I would like to ask you." she responded.

"What if I did it, Miss Granger, because I am the bad guy?" he said coolly.

She flinched.

He sat up, noting that he was in his nightshirt and that his cuts were mending. She had seen far too much of him for a young girl. His student had treated and changed him as if he were the child.

He leaned forward, "That's right, I have you all alone and vulnerable here in my chambers. Evidence that I'm certainly not decent in the least."

He watched her finger move up the wand.

"More to the fact," he sustained, "you will not injure me otherwise you would not have spent the night healing my wounds."

Her wand dropped as he stood up. He did not know which role to play anymore. This tired actor had worn too many masks, memorized too many lines, and gotten lost in too many plot holes. It had been years since he had last lived by impulse in the shadow of meticulous, scrutiny. He glanced at the girl whom had dawdled around him for so many short years. This courageous, once thorn in his side had nursed him. She was radiant with youth and he was draining her slowly of the innocence that he had craved to return to. No matter how much he damaged her, he wanted it all. But he had to maintain the charade.

"I _am_ the enemy," he breathed as his arms engulfed her. He domineered a kiss into her petal-like lips and sought to taste her fully.

He forced her to respond, her hands traveling up his midsection until she pressed him away. Her eyes gleamed with surprise and confusion. "Professor?" She flushed.

He had to keep playing the game. He told himself that this tactic would be enough to frighten the girl away from any and all connections with dark magic. As such, he would not treat her as a partner, but as his tool. He did not respond to her query, instead he brought his mouth to her throat.

"Ah!" She gasped. _"Professor!"_

She squirmed as he placed a large hand on her teardrop shaped breast. He couldn't look at her face. He wouldn't. It was too late to go back now. Guilt mingled with passion as pleasure began to fill within him. In continuance of his trek of her body, he began to unbutton her blouse and peel back her bra to reveal the smooth pink flesh of her nipple. He couldn't help but place his mouth around that perfect circle. He bit and swirled his tongue around until he could feel it peek. Through the rush to his head came the drowned out sounds of her delight in his actions.

He had expected to hear revulsion. The shock of this discrepancy allowed him to pull back and assess the situation. Although he said he wouldn't look, her face was strikingly amorous. The plan wasn't working. In fact, it was headed in the alternate direction. From the look on her face she would be signing up to join the dark army the next day.

"Damn it." He exhaled as he pressed a hand over his forehead and through his charcoal locks. Sense was slowly returning to him, bringing him back from the heavens and binding him to the dark from whence he came. The path that he had been traveling for so long was now obscure. _What were the right decisions anymore? Where was Lily?_


	9. Chapter 9

He smelled of new parchment and spearmint, the only thing he was missing was the scent of freshly mowed grass to be all that attracted her. However, that was a smell that lingered in the muggle world, a now distant part of her existence. She was seventeen, in her sixth year at Hogwarts and contemplating what it was that made one person adult and the other an innocent. If it was emotional turmoil, loss and battle experience then she dared to claim herself as an equal.

Everything about the man was sharp; his wit, his attitude, the angles of his face, the way he turned on a dime- the way he bit at her. In the beginning, she would do anything to keep from breaking the rules. Now, after the events of her fifth year and Dumbledore's Army, it seemed to become a habit. In the events with Harry, she could tell herself it was for the greater good. Yet, when she was lying splayed over a futon in her Professor's bedroom with her skirt revealing her periwinkle undergarments and her flesh pressed over the rim of her bra, someone had to remind her, what was it she was supposed to be doing again?

She came out of a heavenly fog when Snape had released her and withdrew into himself. This was where she still felt like a child, inexperienced and uninformed. She barely knew the man before her, the one who had introduced her to a world of lust and longing. This was the same man, the enemy with the dark mark who had taken joy in wrapping his hand around her throat and throwing her to the ground and assaulting her. Hello Hermione, shouldn't you be running and screaming by now?

There was something in the way his body hunched that transferred him from the intimidating adult image, to one of a confused adolescent, someone that she could identify with. His hand remained on his forehead in thought as she placed a hand cautiously upon his shoulder. He did not shift or look up.

"I made a promise." Snape exhumed.

She swallowed, confused by this initial remark. Curiosity egged her on, "What do you mean?"

A tortured look flashed across his pale face, as if lightening had struck. "Always, I promised to always be faithful to her."

Hermione's pulse quickened despite her logic trying desperately to beat the emotion into submission. She tried to ask, but only a meek sound escaped her throat, "Lily-"

He looked at her with eyes of shock, hurt then agitation. "Why do you know these things?" He asked coldly, returning to his strict demeanor.

"She was Harry's mother wasn't she?" Hermione spouted as tears stung at her eyes and her face was growing hot.

"She should have never been a Potter." Snape spat.

"What did she ever do that was so great for you?" Hermione sniveled.

He was silent, then, "She was a defender and a dear companion of mine."

"Well then," Hermione shook, "did she ever touch you like you touched me just now Professor?" She looked at him intently, tears streaming down her flushed face.

No response.

"Look at me! I'm here, I'm real" Hermione hiccuped, " _I'm alive…_ "

"Don't you dare." Snape snarled. "Get out. NOW."

"Gladly." She remarked before she turned to exit, not looking back.

Out in the quiet of the hallway she wiped her face with her sleeve and straightened her disheveled appearance with a spell. He truly was a villain.

* * *

She had returned to her dorms that evening, noting that Ron had a celebratory Quidditch win. She tried to act casual and join in the festivities. Yet, when she saw her friend and Lavender Brown blatantly snogging for the crowd, she nearly hurled. It wasn't fair that romance should be so easy for them. She took a walk out of the tower and down the castle stairs as she thought. How could fate be so cruel to shun her romance while shoving other's in her face? It wasn't fair. Furthermore, she felt furtive and guilty at the nature of her student-teacher relationship. What was she to Severus Snape, a plaything? If he was supposed to be so promised to Lily then why had he leapt at her as if she were a piece of meat? Had those two ever known a romance for each other? It was unlikely; after all, she was married and had a son. Was this disappointment related to the mark on his arm? Did he really care that damn much? Would he always? Which came back to her, what was she?

Tears trailed her face as she tried to distract herself with something productive. She had a quiz in Charms the following day. So, she produced a flock of fluttering canaries whose melody eased her mind ever so slightly. Suddenly, she heard footsteps echoing on the staircase behind her, she turned to see the boy-who-lived. People had said that he looked like his father, but had the eyes of his mother. She had to admit that they were a nice emerald color. She bet his mum was quite the beauty, and that fact only made her spirit sink even more.

"Charms spell, just practicing." Hermione mouthed as Harry sat beside her. She began divulging her feelings until she saw Ron and giggling Lavender screeching down the hall. She could not stomach to see any normal jovial couples, not tonight. Her heart wretched. After unleashing the birds in Ron's direction she felt a little better, but her guilt came back full force at attacking the wrong guy. Harry seemed to sense her sorrow and wrapped his arms around her. She poured her heart onto her friends shoulder, telling herself that this would be the last time she would cry over Severus Snape.

* * *

Snow began falling flake by flake, soon amounting to a pile on the grounds that clung to the gray stone walls of the castle. It was the night of Slughorn's Christmas ball. Hermione had known that Snape would be there once more to chaperone as a member of the Slytherin house. This left her questioning how to maintain her indifference in the face of the man whom had assaulted her mind and body. It had been two months since she had last spoken to her Professor on an extracurricular basis. His was the only class she did not raise her hand in, although he often picked on her to maintain the charade that everything was as it always had been. She offered the correct answers and played his game only to reduce any suspicion upon her character. Yet, the secret memories burned at her as she was burdened with the task of reducing any and all thoughts of his touch into a tiny, sealed box at the back of her mind. She had received a peach colored pleated dress from her parents as an early Christmas gift. She slowly zipped it up as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. It was quite feminine for her, but she found that school dances and social events allowed her to show that aspect. She kept reminding herself that what she was doing was only for her enjoyment as she performed a spell to tame her hair into soft curls. She placed a brown necklace on her collarbone as she reviewed the soft complementary makeup upon her face. This was also the first time she had donned a pair of heels since Umbridge had forced her to wear the burning pumps in her fifth year. She struggled to quell the memories of that night. She needed to stop asking herself whether he would notice. She was determined not to notice him.

She met Cormac outside of the Gryffindor tower at the top of the moving stairs. He let a low whistle escape his lips as he placed his arm around Hermione's.

"Lookin' fine." He added with a greedy grin on his face.

She swallowed and nodded as she began to regret her choice of company. Although she wouldn't like to admit it, the fact that Snape would be there may have contributed to the decision to have the clingiest male at Hogwarts at her side. Not that he would be jealous or anything.

They entered the classroom through satin curtains and with a sharp intake of breath, there he was. Well, his back anyway. It was broad and he was taller than she remembered. He had his typical black robes on as well, his silky hair splayed just under his collar. She tried to list all of the bad things that she could remember to keep her from striding over in his direction to avoid any further contact from Cormac and admire Snape from a better angle. She couldn't lie, she had always been one to solve problems and the mystery that he had left her with was hard to ignore. His presence tempted her in more ways than one. She was brought out of her contemplation when she felt her date's clammy fingers on her shoulder blade. They were beginning to travel lower down her back…

She turned to face him. "Would you, could you, please get us some punch?" She asked sweetly while attempting to bat her lashes.

"Sure thing, doll. Try not to miss me while I'm away." He responded with a wink.

"I won't." She said through a fake smile as he was out of earshot.

That was when she took a dive for the sheer, golden curtains in front of the window. It was the best that she could do, for now. Harry had noticed, and he wasn't the only one. She tugged on her hair as she spoke to her friend, struggling to come up with a reason for inviting and ditching her infamous date.

"I thought it would annoy Ron the most." She voiced, as this was the lie she developed after divulging her sorrow to Harry the night that Snape had sent her packing and she unleashed canaries on her other partner in crime. It all made sense this way, sans for the fact that the only annoyance she had with Lavender was that she was as clingy and jealous as Cormac, in addition to shielding Ron from any form of female friend. Hermione's heart sped up as she hoped that Harry would not question why she would do such a thing when Ron wasn't even at Slughorn's ball. Just in case, she stuffed a few desserts in her mouth to avoid answering the query. That was when she looked to her right and saw the half-blood prince striding towards the curtain.

"God, here he comes." She exhaled as she made an effort to evade any and all romantic relations that evening. And she was doing so quite successfully.

Severus swiftly opened the curtain where he had seen Hermione hidden once again with Potter. What exactly was the relationship between those two? It wasn't quick before the boy that she had come in with had nearly soiled Snape's shoes. He was certainly no threat. But, why should he think of him that way?

"You've just earned yourself a month's detention, McLaggen." He sneered. The boy with the glasses was now in the periphery of his vision.

"Not so fast, Potter." He stated before relaying a message about Dumbledore. He felt like an owl, so he acted the part in ignoring the boy's final question. He strode off as he scanned the room. Where had Miss Granger disappeared to? He hadn't gotten the chance to address their awkward separation, yet he wondered if that was for the best. How did she feel? Was she as torn as he had been as a teenager parting with Lily? He hoped not, he scoffed at the dream that he could inspire such emotion. Now, things would be as they were. He was the strict professor, and she could be the adolescent that she was meant to be. However, with this war looming and the unbreakable vow, he doubted that she would be given the innocence that she truly deserved. He despised himself for stealing any form of it from her. Yet, he wondered how naïve she was before he laid hands on her. Everyone has their own idea of perfection, but what he had felt in his palm had been exquisite and caused him to question his definition. She was intoxicating, and he found it hard to believe that not one boy had at least tried… He abhorred the thought and shook it from his mind.

It was nearly time for Draco to complete his task, and he had to find the boy to reaffirm his actions. Although, he knew that the boy would and must fail according to Dumbledore. That was the thing about this school, this war; too many innocents had to be left unscathed while those who were deemed sullied had to claw their way through the muck to blaze a trail of righteous sacrifice. It was nauseating, it was Gryffindor. Except he was Slytherin, and he was trying to execute things his way. He knew that if he followed the path that was not true to his nature, he would end up dead before the final battle. And he had been preparing himself to do so, until this girl kept raising her hand and reciting books and practicing unnecessary potions and kissing him so deeply it awakened him from the slumber a red-haired girl had cast on him years ago.

After seeking young Malfoy in the dimly lit hallway he found the boy and pressed him roughly against the wall for his impudence. He sought to implore him to do the job correctly, or they would both suffer. Snape knew that no one needed pity, what they needed to do was work to get out of the mess that they had dug themselves into. This was Draco's mess. Snape had only fallen into this snare because he seemed to be protecting everyone's baby from his graduating class from the clutches of the Dark Lord. That was his job, Snape the child defender. The blood sacrifice. After his rousing talk, he returned to the ball in search of distraction.

On his way back, he halted at the sight of a pair of peach colored heels abandoned on the floor. He walked towards them curiously, as he looked up to see a matching pair of feet floating limp from behind the castle beam. Within his gaze, there was a torso with a pleated skirt hanging around its waist.

"Hermione!" He choked as he treaded in her direction. What had the girl done? What had hurt her so badly that she would think to become one of the ghosts that walked the halls? Had he played a part? Was she as dense and reckless as he had been at that age? The apprehensive thoughts racing through his mind came to a stop as he could see the rest of her body behind the beam, there was no rope around her delicate pale throat. There was only a brown necklace. He tried to catch his breath and compose himself as he looked at the wide eyed girl he had snuck up on.

"What are you doing, girl?" He questioned tensely as he held out a hand to help her down from her place three feet above the stone floor.

"I was practicing levitation, Sir." She responded in a spooked manner, "I practice spells whenever I have something superfluous on my mind."

Of course she was, how could he forget himself, how could he forget her. She grasped his hand as he breathed a sigh. Hermione whispered the incantation that allowed her to lower herself gracefully to the castle floor. It was cold on her bare feet. As she looked at the discarded shoes, she imagined what it could have looked like. She glanced back up at her Professor. His eyes held fear and fretfulness. There was sweat on his brow from running in her direction. He cared. Even if it was only the amount that a teacher should care for their student, he cared. And that disarmed her. Her eyes and heart stung as she wrapped her arms around the waist of Severus Snape. She could feel his muscles recoil through her body and face pressed against his vest. She held still until his hands were carefully searching her back, his embrace grew tight and they both knew to let go.

* * *

Logic told her to stay away from Severus Snape but no spell could make reason override the feelings that kept arising in D.A.D.A. The mere flick of her Professor's wrist when casting a spell brought to mind the image of those adept hands on her body. It was nearing Valentine's Day and the two hadn't truly spoken since the embrace months ago in the empty hallway. In her dreams she could feel the cold stone on her feet while her face was pressed tightly against his woolen cowl. In reality, it had turned out that they parted ways with a mutual silence and a lack for understanding for why things had occurred the way they did. Hermione was determined to keep her focus on the only thing that brought constant reward, her grades. Everyone was in their own little world, Ron was canoodling his overly attached girlfriend, and Harry was brooding over something he wouldn't share but was determined to resolve. Hermione was in desperate need of distraction, without her best friends asking her for advice and tugging her into an adventure her mind was slipping into dangerous levels of fantasy and curiosity that prevailed when homework was complete.

Snape was passing out parchment with the margins filled with red quill ink. Faces of shame and indignation resounded within the crowd of pupils. He was placing a paper swiftly down upon Hermione's workspace when he brushed her hand. It felt as if a static shock had jumped between them when what could only be described as visions created by the mind of a teenage girl had flooded his brain. There they were on the demonstration table with her pink flesh spread out on his cloak. The scene ended as Snape's eyes were locked on Hermione's fearful expression.

"See me after class Miss Granger. It appears that your work on assignments is declining in academia."

She swallowed; her occlumency had a mind of its own. Just why did it choose to show him? Why now?

"Hermione's work is always brilliant!" Ron piped up to Harry, "Just what's the grimy git's problem?"

Hermione desperately shushed him through her flushed complexion. She didn't know what awaited her, but she didn't want it to be anything more threatening.

The students piled out through the two wooden doors as Hermione lingered at her seat. Her knees were too weak to stand.

"Miss Granger." That voice. The baritone echoed in the vacant classroom. "Just what was that?" His tone was harsh yet not scathing. There was a bit of intrigue to it.

"Just like the Potion's Room, Sir." She tried to state calmly but her voice wavered slightly, "When you touch me, my thoughts are transferred to you through occlumency. It seems that now they are seeking you out."

"And, if I might add, escalating at a rather fast pace." Snape stated blankly.

She would have laughed, but her innermost thoughts were on display and being critiqued by the main character.

"Correct." She nodded with a blush.

He placed a hand firmly down upon her desk with a crack. Her head snapped up to look at him.

"These types of thoughts are forbidden in my classroom. Do you hear me?" He spoke strictly.

She was silent. "Yes, Professor."

"Promise me, or there will be penalties." He stared into her.

"I promise." The words fell off her tongue.

"Good." He concluded, "5 points from Gryffindor for your lewd behavior. Now go."

She had made a pact, but could she really control her mind? Not if things kept up the way they did, Hermione thought as she hurriedly exited the classroom.

The encounter had left Snape feeling rather lewd himself. In an odd way, it was a welcome distraction from the woes of Draco and the Dark Lord. Every time that the girl had thrown some sort of disruption his way it was like a form of improper entertainment. It was as if he could step out of his role and into one more suiting, the man he had played in Hermione's daydreams. What was that man like, he wondered. Was he just the figment of her imagination or could it truly be Severus Snape as he was but could never justly be in reality? That Snape was domineering, strong and out to get what he wanted without a care to other parties involved, although he noted little to no resistance of Hermione's character. Snape stopped pacing and came upon a thought. If that was truly Hermione and not a fabrication of the girl's imagination, she wanted him. Not in the playful, sappy, teenage crush kind of way. No, he could feel the desire emanating off of that character like heat from a radiator. He stopped and pictured the true Hermione Granger for a second. He would be unsure of how to respond to the depth of her feelings. Should it be true, he couldn't be happy accepting a young witch as a possibility in partnership.

On the other hand, could he be happy letting her go without ever truly experiencing that level of desire? He paused then put an end to his deliberation as he recalled that death followed him around like a shadow. He was in no position to be contemplating a future, especially one with hope. He then vowed the same pact as Hermione; those thoughts were forbidden in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.


	10. Chapter 10

It wasn't like the man felt nothing, even if he had been trained to. The guilt of placing one of his students in such promiscuous circumstances often pricked at him from the inside. That's why he avoided any awkward interaction and attempted to establish himself as Professor whenever he could. Although he knew that she knew as a good student. She would never tell a soul, even if he were wicked. And that fact made his stomach turn even more. He tried to remind himself that the girl's Gryffindor actions were the catalyst to this whole situation. His mind didn't have much time to wander on that subject due to the unbreakable vow that he had made which was now approaching completion. Dumbledore knew of it. The old wizard even supported the effort, stating that his death must not fail. Snape often thought that if he had been afforded the same easy escape he would have accepted as quickly and confidently as Dumbledore had. The only escape Severus had now came with the Granger girl.

It was a grey afternoon in February. As Snape stepped down the hallway, many first years squealed and others fled towards the large glass windows for safety. Even if he did hate the ingrates, one good thing about his job and reputation was that no one would bother him. Except for her. Come to mention it, there were a lot of red boxes out and people stuffing their faces with sweets. The whole air of the castle was making him sick. It must have been Valentine's Day.

Snape was seeking something to block out the visions of students snogging in the corner, there were spells to make them invisible didn't they know? As he searched his mind, the imagery that Hermione's occlumency displayed itself. It was quite the pretty picture. Is that what she did in her spare time? Nuzzle up in the Gryffindor tower on her four-poster bed, pull back the curtains, cast a _mufflatio_ and dream up notions about the two of them? He swallowed as thoughts came to his mind. _What would she wear, pajamas or her day clothes? Would she close her eyes or keep them open? Would she touch herself? Did she know how, could she bring herself to the brink of pleasure? Did he have to teach her-_

An arm collided into his with a sudden shock. Suddenly, books and parchment were sprawled out on the corridor floor. As he looked into Hermione's wide auburn eyes Snape knew that something was off; she wasn't apologizing or bending to pick up her secondary spell literature, she was just staring at him, searching him with disbelief.

"Miss Granger, you should only carry the amount of books that won't impede your vision." He tried to be scathing.

The sides of her mouth were upturning, and the gears in her mind were turning. What was this?

"I saw." She whispered.

"Saw what, Miss Granger? Speak up." A crowd was gathering, although be it far off due to fear of Snape's aura.

"Occlumency, Professor." She stately in an even and calm tone, "I was just working on the defense against occlumency paper you had assigned. It should be on your desk by this evening."

_No, that couldn't-_

This had to be sorted out.

"By no later than 21:00, or your house will have you to blame for points deducted."

"Yes, sir."

Snape turned on his heel, walking away from the glaring eyes. He hoped that the insufferable flock hadn't seen the warmth now spreading through his upper body.

He later saw her again that day in D.A.D.A. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Weasley boy mumbling something and handing over a box wrapped in newspaper. What could he possibly have to give her? And he wasn't only thinking presents. The boy often irritated her and Snape could see it. Now, she had a silly grin and a blush spreading on her cheeks. Weasley had a really stupid look on his face. Potter also leaned over to join the fun and handed her one of his many chocolates, from secret admirers he was sure. There was something growing in the pit of his stomach that he thought he had strangled many years ago.

* * *

A knock came at his chamber door ten minutes before his prescribed time. It was a good thing that he had potions to cure anxiety, because without them this moment would be a lot harder.

"Come." He stated.

He was expecting her to have done something stupid like dress up or put on muggle makeup to impress him for their meeting. But no, it was simply Hermione Granger. He didn't know if it was for the better or for the worse the way she naturally shone from behind those tangled locks.

Snape cast a spell to lock the door behind her and keep their conversation from prying ears. He wanted to get straight to the heart of the matter. "What did you see?"

Hermione had prepared herself for this. "You were teaching me."

"Is that all?" He tried not to give into the relief edging at him.

"In my bedroom." All he could see were her cherry lips when she spoke those words. The image looped in his mind as he struggled to come up with a Snape-like retort.

"Are you certain?" Was all that he could manage.

"Absolutely. It's vivid in my mind." She was resisting a smile. At least she was trying to maintain her role.

"It appears that now my occlumency can jump to you as well." Snape divulged. There was no use outwitting teenagers in this matter.

"There's something else that I've noticed, Professor." She stated.

"And what is that?" This was remotely peculiar.

"The occlumency jump results from thoughts of passion."

* * *

Snape was about to cruelly shun her away from any sentiment of passions between them when a Ravenclaw girl burst into his dungeon.

"Hermione, Ron's in trouble!" She looked much like a bird, flailing her arms and squawking. The sorting hat wasn't wrong.

Snape did not see Hermione glance back for approval before she ran blindly into the halls. Left feeling a bit perturbed, he waved the high strung Ravenclaw off and came back to his thoughts. What did she have to worry for? Shouldn't she be thankful that the red head and the boy-who-lived hadn't allowed her to suffer the consequences of their latest venture as well?

He gathered his cloak and recomposed his steely aura before entering the halls. He should be present to see just what the boy had gotten himself into, after all.

He looked on amidst his colleagues as explanation fell from their lips about the pale, bedridden boy. He looked as if he had swallowed something worse than a bezoar. It wasn't too much longer before he discovered his assessment to be correct. At least Potter had retained some information in that lofty skull.

Suddenly, another girl with her knickers in a twist had entered the hospital wing. Quite the busy day for hormones, he noted. He paid little attention to her banter, but his ear seemed trained to hone in on Hermione's responses.

"I happen to be his friend."

Why did he feel a sense of both relief and tension at that statement?

"I've always found him- interesting."

She looked away after that comment. Perhaps because the girl was struggling to come up with the appropriate adjective when placed on the spot? What was she arguing for, anyway?

Snape admired how Hermione coolly stood her ground, but he couldn't get his stomach to offer the same respect as his mind.

Out of the darkness, the word 'Hermione' had feebly fallen from Weasley's chapped lips. And that was all it took for her to sit at his bedside, an unyielding grip on his hand.

Friendship had never been something that Snape had a firm concept of. When he saw the two teenagers, he thought back to what he would do if it were Lily. He would have done the same, but then again, that wasn't friendship. That was something deeper that brought him to sell his soul to the Dark Lord and Dumbeldore out of retribution, out of something he liked to believe was love. The only fruit to drop from the barren tree of his heart. Much like a photograph, it was easy to distinguish in those days, but yellow and faded as of late. Fraying at the edges and becoming lost in translation. Applying that infantile feeling to what he was seeing now was driving his insides to slowly cannibalize themselves.

"Oh to be young and feel loves keen sting."

Had Dumbeldore noticed his discomfort? Was he trying to offer assistance or twisting the knife at uncovering any thoughts besides those which were binding his soul to Hogwarts and eternal servitude at the old wizard's feet?

"Let us go, Mr. Weasley is well cared for."

Snape had decided; it was both. With a turn of his heal, he offered Hermione the same kindness she had afforded him. He did not look back. He would not. He could not, not now, with his unbreakable vow and fate sealed.

Hermione slid her hand on top of Ron's. "Oh shut up." She whispered to Harry, who soon exited along with the others. She was left alone with her freckled friend.

She had always been poised to win, to be the best at everything if she could, which left her conflicted as she sat. Was that show between her and Lavender only about her pride? Had she truly won anything? Sure, she used to like Ron. And yes, she could admit now that she was a tad jealous of the constant attention Lavender was getting. Yet, she was also a bit nauseated by the thought of the boy making out with anyone. It was in fact a love between them but, she knew now, it was a sibling love. The strong type that develops over years of childhood memories and time spent in the Gryffindor tower, in Hagrid's hut bonding. It was the same love that she had for Harry. It was equal, neither had more than the other.

There was one other reason why her heart couldn't go in that direction, the mysterious master who lurked in the castle dungeons, and the one who had taught her harshly and left her lusting for more. She felt the clammy hand slip from her fingers onto the white linen as the realization washed over her. Her Professor had been watching the whole time, hadn't he? What would he think of her now? Her eyes swept back and forth as she analyzed her actions. Typical Gryffindor teenager was what they spoke of. Perhaps even a romantically ignorant defense of love. And in her intellect and interactions, she could gather that Professor Snape could not distinguish between a love among friends and something more. Hell, she was finding it hard to distinguish herself.

What could she do now? Her effort had been coming in waves to erode the barrier around his heart and mind. And yet, she could feel with every tick of the clock how he was rebuilding the longstanding walls, stone by stone. She looked sorrowfully back down at her sick friend. He was becoming a blur before her eyes. A hot tear colored the fabric a shade darker as she leaned over to pull his limp frame into an embrace. "I'm sorry Ron, I'm being so selfish." Hermione choked into his clavicle. At least he would let her hug him. He was always so warm and open. But she had become inclined to dark, cramped spaces and that was exactly where she needed to go.


	11. Chapter 11

Snape returned to his quarters to put his mind towards the only thing he had ever been good at, his potions. He closed the heavy wooden doors behind him and busied himself with cauldron and flame. He knew that he would remain uninterrupted, alone with his thoughts. The portraits had long ago left their frames, much like the other residents of Hogwarts they didn't linger with the man in the dungeon.

Yet, no matter how much his hands worked, not matter how quickly he chopped and stirred, he couldn't keep his thoughts from stirring as well. He saw himself as a boy looking on at an imposed image of Lily holding Potter's hand in the infirmary, as if someone had placed a transparency over the evening's recent events. He shook his mind and pushed himself harder, attempting a concoction that had long escaped successful completion at his hands. As he flipped through his quill written notes, two girls' voices echoed and mingled in his mind. He had heard Lily's laughter, something in the pit of his stomach desired to hear what Hermione's sounded like. When was it that he acquired a talent for eliciting tears? He pulled himself back from the solution, heading towards the collection of books on mahogany shelf on the stone wall. He saw Hermione in uniform, reaching for a book in the library. Though he'd hate to admit it, he had stared far too long hoping that she would reach just far enough for her skirt to hike a little further up her thigh. He hit the table with open palms. "Enough!" He shook with frustration. "Enough." He repeated to himself more quietly, exasperated.

Before returning to the task at hand, he grasped a vile of liquid that often relaxed his nerves on long evenings such as this. He took a substantial swig and begun the crush beans with the side of his knife. Then, there was a knock on the door. "Professor?"

His hand slipped. The draft hindered coagulation, allowing crimson to flow freely and seep into the woodwork of the table. Snape cursed under his breath. What was she doing here at this time of night? He struggled to remember the healing spell. "Professor, I thought I heard something, are you alright?" The voice piqued behind the door. His heart was climbing up his throat. Perhaps if he remained silent, she would just go away.

"Professor Snape?" The silence was lasting as the blood began to leak from the cracks in his grip. "I'm coming in."

The look of horror on her face felt like a reward blossoming in his chest.

"You're bleeding!" She gasped. Her uniformed body came swiftly towards him.

He allowed her to touch his rough hands ever so briefly before pulling them out of reach.

She looked at him in confusion.

The draught was taking effect. His body felt heavy, his tongue and his mind were numbing. He felt the corner of his mouth upturn.

"Something's not right." She whispered as she caught his eyes.

"How astute of you, Granger." He spoke casually, his concerns with the mortal world slipping away with each pump of his slowing heart.

The girl grasped his bleeding hand, applying pressure and prompting him to sit in a thrown-like green velvet chair. It amused him to see her hand bathed in his crimson. "I'm a good color on you." He noted, locking eyes.

She blushed as she concentrated on the wound murmuring words of healing. "The clotting is taking too long. What happened? Was it Volde- was it Him again?" She looked worried.

"It soon will be, for me." His head lulled to look at the candle light. "But, I doubt it concerns you."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Professor, I don't understand what you mean. Is he calling? How could you say that?"

She inched his sleeve further up his arm to his elbow. The mark wasn't revealing itself. And despite the blood flow, the man didn't seem to be in any pain. "If it concerns you, it concerns me." With her hand entwined with his injured hand and the other resting on his elbow, she noticed how close she was to his face. Unlike his usual self, her Professor's eyes were examining the girl before him like a vision. Suddenly, he brought his face towards hers gently. Their lips barely brushed each other at first. Then his hands were pulling at her desperately, urging her onto his lap, searching her hair and grasping her thighs. His tongue sought hers and she could taste the mugwort on his hot breath.

She immediately knew this was wrong. He was in the wrong state of mind. "Professor!" She called as his lips were trailing her throat to her clavicle. "This isn't like you!"

He stopped and glanced up at her. "This is what teenagers want, isn't it?"

Anger flared in her, but she wouldn't let her pride get the best of her. Not after her selfish showdown with Lavender earlier. The man was ill, she urged herself to remain calm. She kept her mouth shut as she tried to remove herself from the warmth of his lap.

He held her fast. "Then, what if this is what I want?"

All other sensations within her stopped at this comment. Her mind struggled to restart calculating. Even if his eyes were sincere, this man had been drugged.

She coughed as she got up to distract him. "What exactly were you working on over here?"

He remained seated, observing the work table. "A potion that has never been made. Will never be made." He sounded bored.

She observed the pages of notes, some sun bleached and several years old, others had been written minutes ago. This was some long term project Snape had invested in. She noted the ingredients and layout of the table. There were no books to research from, was he constructing from scratch?

"What exactly, is this?" Her inquisitiveness was building.

Before she knew it, his dark figure was towering behind her. He brought his face close to her ear and murmured the words that brought her back to first year and darkened her soul, "Something that could even put a stopper in death."

* * *

She glanced around the potions room at the viles, some of the contents eyeing her back through pin-sized red eyes. "Aren't Spigons," Hermione took a nervous breath, "illegal?"

He eyed her humming body, "You're the one with all the answers, Miss Granger." He leaned in, "Are they?"

She took a step back to take his dark form in. "Yes, they are." She spoke confidently.

"And Trutgumper?" He gestured to a purplish plant, oozing with sheen. "How about Spiked Emlin?" Beneath his gaze was a rotten root, speckled with thorns. All were kept under lock and key.

Although she tried to suppress it, her intake of breath was sharp. "Most of these would cause a fate worse than death, rather than stop it!"

He stared at her vacantly for a second before breaking into a low laugh.

"One must understand the layout of the passage through hell, before taking the detour. These materials each have qualities replicating a different aspect of the philosopher's stone."

He held up a tightly sealed container. Observing the minuscule Spigons spinning their poisonous web, he recalled the day he began this journey.

Images of a young Lily on the swing set, the first day her neck was wrapped in a Gryffindor scarf, her hand on his back in acknowledgement of his correction of the previous potion's master, her rare glowing smile; only gracing her face with Potter. Somehow, he was suddenly cradling her lifeless body as the green flame in her eyes extinguished. That was the last day he felt tears on his face, the day that he first contemplated traveling on the river Styx to retrieve her soul. But how could she return as whole as she had been? Even the most skilled alchemists could only reanimate the body, but not the soul. That magic had long since been deemed an impossible taboo. He fell deeper and deeper into the dark arts hoping to find the key.

Each day his resolve grew, taking the place that had once held self respect. And then, there was Dumbeldore, preaching remembrance over reanimation. He could go alone with it. Truthfully, he was no longer loyal to either side. He had grown to be a master of puppetering in addition to potions. However, with his security as a Professor, he could continue his work, carrying the dark knowledge from the other side of the realm. That was, as long as Potter was provided for. Not the dead man; this was the one who had stolen Lily's emerald eyes.

Out of the darkness, he noted a pair of auburn eyes that held concern. He had been working so hard for so long, did he still wish for the same thing?

Hermione's hand was steady on his cheek. "…sor. Look at me, Professor." Her voice broke through the fog. He had been in a trance for several minutes. The potion he had taken was to numb the pain and susceptibility as he worked on the accursed project. It fueled itself on memories, eliciting any drive that was left in Severus Snape. It would keep him working even if he were running on empty. Come to think of it, the potion was much like Albus. It was meant to hone Snape's focus on his desired end goal, but this girl was messing with the cogs in the machinery.

"What on Earth?" Her voice trailed off.

Snape recalled her hands prying desperately, caringly, upon the Weasley boy only moments ago.

He swatted her away.

She became silent, retracting her hand and holding it firmly in the other. "Who are you trying to save? Because it most certainly is not you."

"Astute, as always." His voice was a steady vibrato. "According to Professor Dumbledore, it is meant for someone you hold rather dear."

"You don't mean Harry?" She squeaked. She earnestly examined his face. "There is no way that you would put yourself in such danger for someone whom you torment on a daily basis."

A heat was rising within him, "Do you claim to know me, child?" His robes flowed as he strode forward, crimson still falling from his grasp. "Are you attempting to empathize with each stroke of fate that has brought me to this point? Do not degrade me with your pity." He stood his ground. "In all of your seventeen years on this planet, have you reached ultimate wisdom?" His scathing increased, "Or perhaps you entered Hogwarts with your hand waving because you already had."

The feeling of the slap to his cheek was fleeting, leaving a tingling sensation.

"I claim nothing. For all the books I've read, I am never far enough up to speed in the workings of this world." She divulged, peering at him through half-lidded eyes.

He put a large, chapped hand to the stinging spot, as if to note that he were awake.

"That is specifically why you are my Professor." She continued, "Inform me, so that I can shed this ugly skin of juvenile ignorance that you seem so desperate to associate with me."

Both stared at one another, their breathing slightly heavy in the silent air, due to the battle of wills.

Snape turned back towards his parchment. "…I wish how you could see," he begun, unsure of the short walk off a steep cliff that he was taking, "that there was a world out there before Harry Potter ever existed."

She noted his voice trailing into that exotic place. Coming from the Muggle world, of course she had a notion of what it was like to live without a 'chosen one'. And yet, that was not the sentiment that Snape was trying to divulge. Her stomach felt like it was scooped out as she recalled the flower pressed between the pages of his book, permanently chaining what could have been a great man into the shoes of his former self.

She held onto her arms for assurance. "Are you still," she stalled, "chasing ghosts?"

He picked up a quill and busied himself with formulas. "Perhaps I am one."

There was a burning on his wrist that reinforced his line of thought. He fought the growing impatience, "I can't recall the last time that I had a life of my own." He stood up, preparing to address whatever folly Draco had gotten himself into.

"If you'll excuse me, Miss Granger, I have some pertinent business to attend to." With that, he was moving towards the chamber door.

"Wait-" She requested as she grabbed at his dark blue sleeve.

The resulting movement of fabric revealed marks like rug burns indented around his wrist. They were moving, tying tighter.

He made a motion to retrieve his clothing and cover the spot. Yet his effort was in vain.

" _…the unbreakable vow…_ " Hermione uttered.


	12. Chapter 12

"Why would..." She sputtered as her mind reeled. She watched as Snape raised an eyebrow in mockery, "Who would-?" She corrected.

"A more apropos line of questioning." His voice sent a delicious shudder through her. Or was it the Spigons?

"I thought that pact was outlawed…"

"It lives on in certain circles."

"Does it have something to do with the potion? Is it for, well… Lord Vold-" Snape's rough hand encompassed her lips with ease.

"You shall not speak his name." He asserted as he revealed the dark mark, now writhing on his forearm. Her eyes moved over the black, seemingly liquid, boldness of it back up to his urgent eyes. "Seek reason. Why would he form a pact with me when he has this hold on my soul already?"

She slowly nodded, feeling his hand move with her and remove itself at the same careful speed.

She saw his eyes linger on the place where his hand was, and in that second he seemed to memorize everything she had to offer. His gaze shifted to rolling his sleeve back over his porcelain skin.

Her hand stopped the process. "You don't have to hide it," She suddenly felt embarrassed at her brashness, "from me, Sir."

"Foolish girl." He ticked in his dark humor. "I myself do not like to look upon it." He smirked. "Not everything is about you."

She huffed and a bit of hair flew out of her face. "Please, at least give me a hint to what's going on here." She pleaded she he turned for the door. "Or, so help me, I will badger it out of you."

For a moment he looked afraid. Which to tell her? Was it the pact or potion that was the lesser of evils? "But, in a way, this potion is related to Hogwarts' star pupil."

She felt a bitter pride at his statement. "What? It can't be meant for me." He could see the gears turning behind her eyes. It was a favorite pastime of his during testing sessions. "Then it must be…" She inhaled sharply, "Harry! Is something going to happen to him?" Her hands pressed to his robes. "Is he in danger?"

"Always." Snape drawled with a bitterness of his own.

She did not catch his wit and continued to cling to him, "What's going to happen? Do you know something? Is he going to… die?" Her voice hitched as he eyes grew red and desperate.

He'd seen that desperation mirrored in so many of the faces that had fallen before him, before the Death Eaters. Pleading for answers, for comfort that would never come before the life was snuffed out of their eyes forever.

He convinced himself it was some act of contrition to put the girl at ease. He reached out to grasp her curls and bring her head to his chest in some form of a protective embrace. He was quite unpracticed, he'd hoped she couldn't tell. "Be calm." He wasn't sure if he was asserting to her or himself.

She took a deep breath as her fear and confusion became a blank slate upon inhaling his sent. Parchment, smoke, and various herbs of sophistication. Him. It was him. And there was nothing that would ever compare. The broadness of his chest surprised her, along with the sound of his blood coursing through his aorta behind the comforting dark fabric of his robes. It was not as thick or scratchy as she guessed it might be. She suddenly felt his hand smoothing down her mountainous locks. And she looked up at him cautiously, questioning.

His look was the same as hers. They shared an infinite moment pondering the various futures that could occur in the next few moments before he spoke again, "Are you steady now, Miss Granger?"

She swallowed. "I'm not sure anymore."

"Neither am I." His voice changed in a way she could not name. He took a step back from her. "Let us say that your homework is to adjust to that new normal. Let my words sink in and find an answer for yourself. Now if you please."

She could see his fist clenching and unclenching on the hand where the vow was woven… He had something to fulfill. Fine. If he was going to be a Slytherin about it, then so was she. She stepped back and he looked at her in passing curiosity as he strode by.

* * *

She cast a Mufflatio on herself after he exited the door. She had already placed a tracking spell on his cloak when they were touching. She was going to find out the definition of what exactly her new normal was.

Her wand was heating up as she approached her professor's voice in a secluded corridor, late in the evening. There was another voice sharply grating against his rigid tone. She would recognize that arrogance anywhere. Malfoy. They had always seemed to be in sync and now they were arguing? Wait… Weren't they related in some way? Yes, she had heard the boy bragging that Snape was his Godfather. For a second she wished that Severus had been placed into Hufflepuff all those many years ago.

Her back pressed against the clammy stone as she struggled to make out their words. She heard Snape urging about a 'task'. Malfoy was inciting that Snape 'bugger off' and let him deal with things his way. Sending Malfoy to complete a task… That had to be the unbreakable vow. And what would happen if he didn't do as asked? It seemed simple enough. Then again, it had to be something awful to seek Snape as assurance. The vow seemed to be physically constricting her professor's arm, would it cut off his hand, or even worse? She would be spending some late nights in the library again.

Suddenly there was a hush over the hallway as the soles of feet catching gravel on the stone floor. One of them was walking off in a mood in the opposite direction, while the other would certainly be heading her way. "Fudge." She cursed under her breath. She hadn't even heard what the task was about. Was it even worth it? Could her Gryffindor conscious handle it if she wasn't found out? Oh, she wished that she had the forethought to take Harry's invisibility cloak.

She pressed herself against the wall, straining to blend in, knowing that any verbal spells would certainly get her noticed.

"Granger." She heard from behind her tightly closed eyes. Oh dear. Was this really the lesser of the two evils? She heard him cast the Notice-Me-Not spell.

Her eyes fluttered open, feigning ignorance.

His hands slammed the wall on each side of her, pinning her in place. "If you really are the brightest witch of your age, did you think I wouldn't notice your juvenile tracking spell?"

She swallowed. "I apologize... I only sought understanding."

"How much did you hear?" He prodded.

Her voice was meek, "Draco's task…"

"Did you hear it?!" Snape spoke through his teeth. Merlin, it sounded painful. It had to be dreadful.

"No." Her eyes searched his for understanding.

His knees seemed to buckle under him in thanks. He sank to the ground and she sank with him. His breathing was fast and shallow.

"Professor…" She pleaded, sensing his agony. "Severus…" She soothed.

His face was a void of despair that she could no longer stand. Hermione knelt on the granite floor as her hands softly cupped her teacher's face, although he wasn't home. Her kiss began slowly and gently, as if breathing life into him. He tilted his head upwards in response. She traced her tongue on the corners of his mouth, begging for the entry he allowed her. She tasted him hungrily, giving him every ounce of warmth that she had to bring him back from the brink. And his night gave into her day. He responded in earnest, searching her insides and abandoning the inhibition that gave him nothing but pain. She moaned at his onslaught as he pressed her against the wall, feeling her down to her hips, grasping them as if they were an anchor to the earth. Her mouth was water after a drought, and he was the only one allowed access. He noticed her hands as well, inexperienced, drawing a map of him within her mind. Without warning, they dipped below his belt. Undoubtedly, they could both feel what swelled there. He groaned at the touch he hadn't felt in so long yet wanted so desperately. This awoke him from his trance. After all these barren years, here he was, as hard as the floor they knelt upon.

He swiftly grasped her hand and held it in his as he struggled to regain control of his head. For what reason he couldn't recall. "Hermione." His voice was thick as she answered him with swollen lips and inquiring eyes. "I don't want you to hate me."

She shook her head, but he continued.

"I must admit... I was wrong. You can't do this alone. Perhaps neither can I, anymore. You should know how the end of this school year will be the end of the Wizarding World as we know it."


	13. Chapter 13

" _Dumbledore is going to die…_ " Hermione echoed her professor's words, now safe within the confines of his dungeon.

"The man's already on death's door. He has been for a while now. He's been seeking pieces of the Dark Lord's soul in an effort to destroy him. He must have truly been the old fool that he claims to be to make such a fatal mistake."

"He's dying." Hermione looked up at him from under furrowed brows, tears falling freely down her hot cheeks.

Of course, he had forgotten that death was not a daily occurrence in the young girl's life. Whatever relationship (he hated the word) it was that they were developing the recent developments between them made him desire it to be a positive one. The trouble was that he had absolutely no role models for what exactly a healthy relationship should be, be it friends or… "Be strong." He held on to his teaching construct as he gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. She was soft like a peony. "I will ensure that Dumbledore will not suffer."

"No…" She shook her head and more tears fell. It was remarkable that she could produce so many when it seemed he had none left to give. "He wants you to be the one to do it?" She squeaked. "Shouldn't it be Draco? Isn't that his task? What will he do when he finds out that his puppets aren't behaving the way that they should be?!"

Now it seemed the girl was starting to grasp the Dark Arts. She could have been a Slytherin yet, he thought with a certain pride. "The Dark Lord desires an outcome overall. And he shall get what he's after. I assure you he's envisioned all possibilities. In fact, I'm certain that he sent Bellatrix in search of her sister to fetch me."

"That **snake**." She spat.

"He'd find that quite complimentary." Snape struggled against the odd humor he found in all of this. Perhaps he was going mad after so many Crucios. Maybe it was because he was finally getting an outside perspective.

"Everyone will think that you're the scum of the Earth." Hermione worriedly mused as her hands balled her robes into fists.

He placed his forefinger and thumb to her chin. "Will you, Hermione Granger?"

"Never." Her eyes were fierce like the lioness she was.

Severus reveled, but continued on. "Harry Potter will. Ronald Weasley will. But you must continue on as I have." He was stolid. "They must. Not. Know."

"Why?" Hermione was breathless.

Snape took a moment to formulate his response, relating back to his youth. "Young men need to be driven to accomplish great feats. The death of a man that they idolize at the hands of a man they have always abhorred will only reinforce their goals of defeating the Death Eaters. If they start questioning their perception of me now, they will stop to analyze the humanity of all the members of the Death Eaters, perhaps even the Dark Lord himself. Heroes and villains must be clear in this fight." He took a breath. "Aside from those matters, after this year I will have only dark forces on my side. If the boys should know the truth, they will go spouting it from the tallest tower and I'll be dead within the day."

Hermione chewed her lower lip as she examined her thoughts. She was going to have to be a spy of sorts as well- amidst her greatest friends. It was all for the survival of the man before her, the one who was now baring his soul. "Do you trust me? Are you convinced that I could keep this secret under curse and torture?" Hermione was overwhelmed at the bleak future that stared back at her.

He was silent for a moment. "We have seen short glimpses of what lies inside each other's minds. But what I have seen there, and over the years, assures me that you are the only one in this castle that I can trust."

Hermione grasped his hands and swore over and over again. "I promise." She gulped. _"I promise!"_

He imparted a brief kiss to her lips and she returned it with fervor. He smiled sorrowfully. "It will be a hard time for the both of us after this year. And I am certain we are not likely to come into contact again."

Her heart dropped. Perhaps arithmancy or having a proper divination teacher could help her obscure future come to light. There had to be a book that held the answers somewhere…

He noted her response. He tried to ignite the fire inside them once more. "Luckily for both of us, your mistaken love potion that inspired this mess has initiated the development of an occlumency jump."

"What?" Hermione was pulled out of her problem solving. Then she recalled their odd transfers of thought. "You mean you figured out why that happened?"

"You may have noticed that the best way to create a potion isn't written in a book." He knew she had been looking over his writing as the Half-Blood Prince.

She huffed as she acknowledged his statement. "Go on."

"Many do not know this, but the feeling and thoughts you are concentrating on are as important as the ingredients that go in to a brew. That's why Longbottom's never been successful; he's too focused on screwing it up. And you, my dear Hermione, were searching for a way to talk to me."

"What?" Hermione felt the innocent student inside of her jump.

"You may not have acknowledged it, but when you were working on that potion, you were thinking about my coursework and you wanted to be able to communicate with me."

"P-perhaps." She stammered.

Severus smirked. "Be it for guidance or… other reasons… you created a potion that would initiate a pathway between our minds."

"Really?" She was awestruck.

"It was only when you unapologetically put your lips on mine that the door to the pathway was settled as passion, or as the other ingredients in the potion may deem it, love."

Hermione blushed. "Love…" She repeated.

"Now don't go getting all doey-eyed on me, the effect of that aspect of the potion is as fleeting as those the Weasley boys annoyingly developed. But, this link between us has been open and fostered for some time."

"So… Are you saying we can communicate telepathically?"

"We already have inadvertently. Now give it a try with the direct approach. Think of something you're passionate about to open the door and send a message. Let's start with images and then we can try adding words."

She felt butterflies in her stomach, "Do you want me to go first?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He smirked.

She closed her eyes and tried to envision. Perhaps it didn't need to be passion in the romantic sense. She had to try all the options. She imagined a world where Muggles and Magical beings were able to speak freely to one another without fear. Then she felt herself pushing that thought into Snape's direction.

"An admirable image." Snape's low voice appreciated. "And I see that you have determined that passion does not come in only one form. Now remember, passion need only open the door. It need not be the message."

She could feel a warm thought enter her mind, soon she saw an open meadow where the flowers were dancing with a soft wind. "Where is that?" She cooed.

"A place that exists, for now, only in our minds." He took her hand as she opened her eyes. "This is our weapon against the dark, Hermione. And we must sharpen everything in our arsenal to win this fight."

* * *

It was a new day, but the sun did not seem to rise anymore. The clouds hung over the castle like the shroud of the inevitable funeral. Snape sat at the head table watching the trio with a detached expression. Potter stood up and was heading toward the door. Hermione had somehow felt his eyes, sending an image of the cursed necklace in his direction… So the boy was in search of a culprit. Of course Draco wasn't doing himself any favors. The stock that he came from had always been more proud than surreptitious. These days Draco appeared neither. It was hard to see his godson reduced to less than a former image of himself. He knew the demons that he was dealing with, but the stubborn fool wouldn't let him in. Perhaps he still kept his pride after all. Maybe he was making up for what his father had lost. No, it wouldn't be long now before this act would come to a close. Hermione flashed her worried eyes towards him for a moment. He looked down at his plate and sent her an image of himself following the boys. This appeared to soothe her fears, as she returned to her food.

His cloak followed his long strides down the corridor towards the male bathroom. The tingling in his wrist was increasing again, tearing at him like thorns… Death was encroaching upon his charge and himself. Snape quickened his pace expecting to see Potter with a dagger in his hand as he opened the double doors. What peered back at him, was in fact more shocking. It was the aftermath of his Sectumsempra. Had the boy been arrogant enough to use such a dangerous spell without knowing what followed? More to the point, it could have been a spell of his own design that could have cost him his life. He fought back the shivering feeling that crept up on him like an old friend. He looked down at the bloody body- and all that he could see when he looked up again was that self-justified prick, James, reflected in Harry's mother's eyes. He was backing away into the shadows, yes Potter, we all slink there sometimes.

"Do you know what I think, Potter?" said Snape, very quietly. "I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?"

"I – I don't agree, sir," said Harry, still refusing to look into Snape's eyes. His green orbs were still fixed on his unexpected consequences.

"Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions," said Snape. "Ten o'clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office."

"But, sir ..." said Harry, looking up desperately, uncertain of how to persuade the man who was never on his side in appearance.

"Ten o'clock."' whispered Snape. "Now GO before you cause any more damage."

Snape murmured the incantation to halt and heal the spreading cuts. His words intermingled with the sound of water cascading on the crimson tile. As Draco was catching his breath, words poured from of his pale lips. "I can't…"

Snape continued his healing until the results were satisfactory. "For me," he seethed, "I wish that were an option. I will clean up your mess here, as usual. Head back to the dungeon, immediately."

Draco had a bitter, hurt look on his face. The boy seemed to have grown ten years over night, but he was still far too young to tango with Snape. He knew the time alone would cause him to strengthen his resolve. Good. It would make him look better in the eyes of their enemy and master.

His mind played one of Dumbledore's pep talks, they had them so often these days. "You must be the one to do it," the old man urged on, "only then will the Dark Lord trust you completely." One could assume he was determined to maintain the innocence of his students. What the hell was he then? After youth were you only of use as a tool? Had it never occurred that he was only human and not some automaton expected of performing actions without falter or pain? Ever faithful like a dog? Was it expected that affection from someone, anyone- especially a bright and beautiful young witch, would not awake him from the eternal slumber he was to face? That was, if he wasn't enduring it already. Dumbledore was a cruel man. Almost as cruel and blind as the monster he fought against. He hated to admit it, but recent developments determined Potter a pawn as well. He felt the distant sting of empathy; and somewhere in the blackest pit that he hated, a smug satisfaction. The old man, the boy's hero, knew a part of Voldemort lived inside of him. An accidental horcrux. This meant when the time came, the boy must die. Just like Lily. And all of his endeavors were all the more worthless.

"You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter." Snape spat.

Then Dumbledore had the gall to ask him about loyalty. Him of all people.

When he closed his eyes and tried to imagine a better time, he somehow found himself thinking of sensations from not so long ago. Her curly hair, her velvet face, her laughter in class like a bell, her indignant face when the potion did not turn out the way the book said it should, her fascination at revelations in their conversations. Oh, the thoughts that she had shared and desired to make a reality. Her doe eyes persistently peering up at him from behind worn out pages.

For a moment he was afraid. "Expecto patronum!" He shouted as the familiar figure leapt about the tower. His patronus, like Hermione's eyes, remained a doe. Although Dumbledore could see no difference, Snape could feel it as soon as it exited his wand. This was no longer a mimic of Lily's, but made of happy thoughts all of his own. Real, and unimagined as they had been before. Yes, he loved Lily. He still did, he always would. "Always." He murmured. But that was an unrequited love. But the way that this felt now was like feeling the sun from both sides… He still had some revelations to make of his own.

* * *

Again it was time for D.A.D.A. Snape had to admit, it was a nice change of pace to be able to hurl spells at students; it dealt more of a blow than words alone. Hermione's form was taking nicely, he noted as he watched her skirt sway backward as she arched and cast a wordless spell at Miss Brown. Was she mirroring his own? The chubby girl flew backward and landed in a heap. There still appeared to be some tension there… Although, notably, it was only on the opposing end. However, he could use this to his advantage.

"Miss Granger." He announced thickly, only to see her hazel eyes look to him as if she were caught in headlights. The class stalled as expected. "Using wordless magic is not the objective of this lesson, and as such, Miss Brown was clearly unprepared for your assault."

"Sir, I was only trying to-"

"It appears you would like to scrub cauldrons after Potter here has finished sweeping the classroom with his Nimbus this Saturday."

He noted the angry look from the chosen one, thankful for nothing more.

"I…"

"That was not a question." Snape snarled, "Back to work, all of you."

Again the class was ablaze with lights and sounds. In the midst of the chaos, he sent her the words, "Everything is alright."

He could see the corners of her lips perk up for a second before she performed a stunning block. Come to think of it, those were the first words they had shared mentally. He could feel the corners of his mouth move as well.

They would need more time to practice and hone their skills before they were to separate… The time would come but he would be ready. He chose to live moment to moment as he had since the war had begun. He never knew if tomorrow would show its face. He never cared. That was, until now.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione and Severus worked on weekends to hone their skills in telepathic occlumency. Whenever her classmates would ask her what her plans were, she would hint at perfecting her potions. It wasn't much of a farce; her efforts really had gone awry under Slughorn's ill-begotten teaching. She wondered if she was the only one to notice that he was not the attentive teacher that Severus had been. Had everyone else been so blinded by superficial appearances? The jolly, old man himself never gave a second thought to her extracurricular pursuit of the subject. In fact, he had clasped her on the back to laud her admirable effort. She did have to admit she was getting better. Her time spent with the master of the craft was not only focusing on occlumency, after all. Their talks would often go to whatever was deemed appropriate for winning this war.

Snape noted it had been the opportune time for training since Dumbledore was distracting Potter with information on the remaining pieces of Voldemort's soul. Hermione herself was strangely thankful that Harry was away. Even stranger, she didn't mind the distractions Lavender offered Ron. She had grown a bit proud of his efforts with other women. In the face of the ever-changing world outside, Severus' quarters felt like a comforting shelter from the storm.

During breaks, over tea and the occasional biscuit, Snape would allow further discussions he had never considered having with any other student. No student had ever afforded him such openly trusting and intellectual conversation. It really was outside of the bounds of the classroom definition of a relationship. What was she? Friend? Confidant? …Lover? The flashes of passion that sparked between their minds and bodies had him guiltily denying more. Both were hesitant to take one step further. Yet, their daily lives were outside of the realms of a traditional student-teacher relationship. And both knew there was no going back if they passed the precipice. Strange how the thought of not going back bothered neither.

Another different student-teacher standard could be said of Snape's connection to Draco, whom he viewed as not a student but his godson. Hermione had been there with Severus after his toughest moments with the tormented youth. She had even offered off-handed comments to Draco in the halls, using the sarcastic Slytherin fashion to let him know she had seen the change. It would spark a strange light in the boy's eyes that would smother itself after several moments. Both Severus and Hermione's efforts were to no avail.

In these efforts, Severus viewed Hermione as much more of an adult than he could have ever expected from her seventeen years. And his perception scared him. If she had taken part in the pureblood tradition, as Voldermort often preached, she would have been arranged with a match at the age of sixteen and wedded before her eighteenth birthday. He thanked whatever gods that she was born into the muggle world. He couldn't bear to imagine her bedded by some of the elderly purebloods he had seen at the rituals. No, it was better not to dwell on those thoughts.

Severus couldn't pinpoint the moment that it happened, he often resisted examining the darker recesses of his mind. A part of him still fought against the realization. Yes, she was instrumental in this fight, but he did not view her in the way that Voldemort viewed Draco. She was so much more than a pawn, they all were. Yet, here they were traipsing about a chessboard. If only Draco would listen to him as Hermione had. Then they could all show that snake-faced demon that the world was not his plaything.

"Sir," Hermione looked up from her book by Snape's roaring fireplace at the end of a spring evening.

"Hm?" He looked up from the opposite chair as he sipped at his tea.

"What will you do after the war?"

"…After?" He put the cup down on the table as he felt the foreign word in his mouth. He had been living each day as it came. Severus stood and walked towards the vast enchanted window in his chambers. It allowed him to forget he'd been sentenced to the dungeons for most of his life. In the darkness of that night, he contemplated the waning moon and the silence of the grounds. "Nothing comes after."

"What?"

"There is no after. Not for me. I have seen this coming from the start." His voice was cold, "I'm surprised a bright witch like you hasn't."

"How can you say that?" Hermione's brow furrowed as she stood to join him. "If you've seen this from the start as you say, then you've got to have some sort of plan in motion, haven't you?" She grasped his cold palm with her trembling fingers, "That's what the stopper in death talk was for, right?"

"That talk was for your friend Potter," Snape bit out. "Dumbledore set me to that task as well, telling me that the boy was raised for slaughter but he didn't want him to die before the battle was won. IF he didn't obtain the Philosopher's Stone he needed to have a substitution: a failsafe."

She gave an affronted gasp, "How cruel!"

"Isn't it." Snape scoffed.

Hermione regained her composure, "No matter. It doesn't matter." His eyes were glazing over as if he were already dead and crossing the river Styx. She was losing him. "Severus," she spoke beseechingly as she placed her hands on either side of his face. Good, the use of his name had brought some light back to his eyes. They were beyond titles now, weren't they? Oh, Merlin, she hoped so. "You need to live."

"Why?" He searched her eyes. "What do I have to live for at the end of this war: Being ravaged by dementors in Azkaban? Once my vows of keeping obnoxious boys with egos too big for their bodies alive are complete, I've served my purpose."

"Your purpose?" Hermione squinted.

Snape bristled.

"I'm sorry," she moved her hands lower to rest on his shoulders, "but you really can't believe that's your life's purpose, can you? I mean... you're brilliant."

He stood a bit taller, puzzlement evident in his brow.

She continued, "I would say your potential has been wasted all these years, doing something you rather didn't want to do. But, you know, you've really accomplished something great. You're keeping us all safe. Severus," she gave her head a melancholy shake, "you deserve not to serve a purpose, you deserve not to serve anyone but yourself." She looked up at him with doe's eyes, "Don't you agree?"

It was then that his lips were upon her searching for the affirmation her words had afforded him. Yes, yes, he deserved it all for the misery his life had been, for the sacrifices he had made in the name of remorse and retribution. Yes, he deserved to not have to kill when his master bade it. He deserved not to bleed and cry and fuck and die on command. He deserved to walk in a world with a beautiful girl and watch her become the ravishing woman she was certain to be. But, damn it all, "Life isn't fair." He broke from the kiss. "It won't afford you all you want and desire. It won't even afford you what you need, Hermione."

"I don't care." Hermione affirmed, "I'm not waiting on life to give me what I need, I'm going to take it." She wrapped her hands around her Professor's collar and drew him close, her breath hot on his lips, "Severus, I need you." She kissed him gently, "I've needed you for so long," she trailed her mouth along his throat.

"Hermoine," His head lulled back momentarily before he grasped her shoulders.

"Don't you push me away Severus, not after all you've done, not after all I've seen. You want this. If life won't give it to you, let me give you what you want. Forget about the damned world for a moment." She looked up at him with wet eyes, "if there is no 'after this war,' let me have you while I still can."

He kissed her softly, sorrowfully, "If you'll let me have you."

"Yes, please, Severus," a tear escaped her eye, "please."

He swept her up then, her body light as a sparrow as he carried her to his bedroom. Another fire was crackling inside as he lay her on the bed. "Hermione," his deep vibrato echoed into her collarbone. "How would you prefer-?"

"No, Severus," He curls bounced, one catching in her coy smile, "with me you are free to do as you please, you'll hear no orders from me."

He kissed her gently, "With you I'm sure I wouldn't mind it." He kissed her again. "I believe I do have some inclination as to your tastes from our occlumency trials. You will tell me if it hurts."

That last part was not a question. Hermoine swallowed her nerves with a nod.

"Good. Do tell me how everything feels Miss Granger, this is one opportunity not to stifle your voice."

She playfully swatted at his shoulder, kneeling on the bed to kiss his taller frame standing beside it. As the kiss deepened, the fingers which had deftly cast spells and brewed thousands of potions were trailing under her sweater. They moved slowly, feeling each rib, putting her to memory behind closed eyes. There, his thumb creased the bottom of her bra. "I want to see you." His half-lidded eyes met hers. She blushed and did as he desired; first removing the sweater, then teasingly unbuttoning the white undershirt and removing her red and gold tie. She finally placed her feminine hands on her pale pink bra.

"Allow me." He gave her an admiring look.

She took his hands and led them over the hooks of her bra, which he unclasped with ease.

At his swift intake of breath, she thought him to be in pain, but his face was pleasured by the sight of her. "You're beautiful."

She blushed, "Yes, well, you may have seen a bit before. I like to think they're bigger now-"

"You're perfect." He kissed her, "My apologies for not cherishing you properly before. Something I hope to rectify now." His mouth was on her, kissing around her chest but not at the peak of her pebbled breasts. The wanting was driving a heat at the core of her. She moaned when he finally placed his tongue on her nipple, teasing gently. As he did so, his hands were at the back of her skirt, feeling her pert bottom and wrapping around the backs of her thighs to bring her closer to him. His fingers trailed from under her backside, back and forth to the front of her panties. His thumb pressed at her delicate pearl.

"Ah!" She moaned at the sensation. She had touched herself many times, and imagined this very scene on several occasions as well, but it was nothing compared to the real thing.

"Feel what you do to me, Hermoine," Snape stated as he gently moved her hand from his shoulder to the heat of his erection, now tenting his robes.

"Oh, Severus," she bit her lip. "Can I see?" She had never seen one before really. She'd seen awkward teenagers fumbling with erections but she'd never seen anything like this man. And the very thought of what was beneath that robe had her salivating for some reason.

Snape smiled at the hungry look in her eye. He started down the row of buttons slowly, sensuously; he could see the eager Miss Granger itching to uncover more of him. And he was willing to oblige. Soon, his slim physique was bare before her. "I believe you've seen a bit of me as well."

"Not like this. Oh, Severus…" Hermoine marveled simply at the way he defied gravity. He was thicker than four wands together, about half the length of the one she carried with her at all times. She didn't know if she could ever look at it the same way again. Coarse black hair began at his belly button and ended where his cock began. The tip of him was a pinkish red, already leaking with the pre-cum she had read about in physiology books. She crawled over on the bed, bringing her face close to the tip of him, examining him before looking into his eyes. He seemed to know what she wanted and nodded. She licked at him and heard the most beautiful noise escape his lips. She lapped at him again earning a groan and an involuntary thrust towards her.

With that, he grasped her shoulders and moved her further up the bed. "Allow me taste you as well." She smiled and pulled off her skirt and panties with ease. "Oh, Hermoine." He breathed, and all she could do was blush. He kissed the inside of her thighs as her back was propped against the headboard. She ran her fingers through his inkwell hair as he did so, finding it pleasant between her fingers. His lips at her juncture made her cup his head in surprise at the sensation. "Mm!" she murmured, "I- I've never…"

"It's okay Hermoine, does it feel good?"

"Really good."

His laughter vibrated against her pleasantly. "Good." He continued tasting her, one hand upon her stomach and the other gently tracing her folds. For once she had no questions in her mind as she focused on the sensation. That was, until he withdrew.

She was left panting, wanting release. Again he recognized her hungry eyes, and he felt it too. He drew a hand elegantly against his lips before kissing her. "I want to be inside of you."

Hermoine had wanted this more than anything. "Yes, please, take me Severus."

He made sure she was comfortable laying with her head on the pillow before aligning himself with her entrance. He took the opportunity to use her lubrication to grind himself against her clit so she could see what she was getting into. She reacted pleasantly, back arching for more and ready for penetration. He kissed her then, their tongues tasting one another and he pressed into her slowly. She moaned against his open mouth. He looked into her eyes for a moment and she nodded lazily. He took that for affirmation as he sheathed himself completely in her warmth. He groaned against her throat at the sensation.

"Hermoine, how does it feel?" He spoke after a moment.

"So good," she panted.

He smiled and kissed her, "I'm going to move now."

She simply nodded.

He kept a leisurely pace, using his thumb to knead her as he went in and out.

She moaned in time with his rhythm, "More, I want it, more!"

He went at her harder, willing to give her more than she could ever ask for.

He sat her on top of him then, to tend to her breasts as he moved within her.

She moaned, "Yes, like that!" and began grinding into him in earnest.

Her heat was devouring him, her walls beginning to tighten. "I'm not going to last, Hermoine." Snape groaned into her chest.

At that very moment, she exploded on top of him, stars behind her closed eyes as she cried out his name.

He was soon to follow, placing her onto her back as he finished thrusting into her, filling her with a satisfied grunt. She had never before seen the beauty of complete abandon on her Professor's face. She suffered a keen and unexpected loss when his stoicism returned.

They both recovered their breath in the crackle of the dying fire.


	15. Chapter 15

A chill filled the air as their bodies cooled, but it was more so internal. Both knew there was a reason things had gone this far tonight.

"Hermione," Severus placed his larger hand over hers. "I have to admit I had selfish intentions for not turning you away tonight."

She placed her other hand over his, "And I had selfish intentions for not letting you turn me away."

"Yes," he drawled. "You can be quite stubborn; insufferable Gryffindor."

"I could say the same, self-serving Slytherin."

They shared a small smile.

"Severus, I know you have some dreadful news; but it's not like I went into this expecting roses and sunshine."

"I'm quite possibly allergic to both."

Hermoine laughed. "Go on. Tell me your news then, so I can better understand."

He twitched a brow in concern.

"I'm ready." Her stomach disagreed with her lips.

He searched her eyes for a moment, knowing full well this may be the last time they held him in high regard; what could be the closest to love he would ever know. "Tomorrow is the day that Dumbledore must fall."

She slowly began to cover herself with the blanket, feeling more exposed than she had when being intimate. They had spoken of this moment, of course. Dumbledore was sick, and it would be more of a mercy killing than anything. The old wizard had even requested it of Severus. Still, it would be more blood on her mercenary's hands and more vile words darkening his name. Such a beautiful, eloquent name undeserving of murder and muck. "Severus," she looked up at him, his face searching hers for this very same emotions he expected to find in the crowd. She knew then she had to stifle the uncertainties within herself to comfort him. She cupped his cheek, "you're a good man."

He gave a terse laugh then, but his head turned into the warmth of her palm. "Whatever you say I am Hermione, I am. I will trust your word alone. But you must. swear. to tell no one of my efforts." He locked eyes with her from betwixt her fingers.

"You have my word, Severus," she would make sure to say it as lovingly as possible to erase the spiteful twaddle that was sure to follow.

"Thank you," he kissed her palm.

"And," she took a breath against the thrumming of her heart, "if I am to follow your logic, it will mean a rift at Hogwarts. Who will be the new headmaster?"

"That," he inflected, "would be me."

"You?!" She gasped as her face flushed crimson.

"That's right, Miss Granger, you've just copulated with the soon-to-be headmaster." If there was any joy to be had out of the situation it would be the look on her face. But their heavy hearts would not afford them the pleasure. There could be only trepidation.

"Oh my," Hermoine brought her fingers to her lips, "Severus, you'll be the brunt of accusations, the malice of the whole school will be on your shoulders!"

"It is what the Dark Lord desires," Snape chewed the moniker. He took a moment and swallowed before he looked to her, "But you won't be here for any of it."

"What?" Her eyes grew wide, "Who will protect you?"

That those were the first words out of her mouth made his heart grow lighter and heavier at the same time, he almost laughed. "Would it be you?"

"Always." Her eyes were full of all the certainty of youth. He recognized that word and he hated himself for it. He hated that he had doomed her to inherit his legacy of kindling a dead flame. And yet, he realized, with that look and her face and that word in her mouth, how dearly he loved her. He smiled sorrowfully at the words unsaid and imparted a kiss.

"We may not be side by side but we will still have the telepathic connection."

She nodded, "Right. But, Severus, where will I be going?"

"On a quest for Voldemort's soul. Potter, I'm sure, will fill you in on the details. But you will be away. You must be as far away from the Dark Lord's reaches as humanly possible. Even I should not know your whereabouts."

"…What of my schooling?"

At that, he did laugh. "Hermione, haven't you learned from all of that ink I've placed in your margins? The best lessons are learned outside of a textbook." He took one look at her face, "Yes," he drawled, "I know you love those infernal things. And they do come in useful from time to time. Yet with your experiences to come, you will be the most educated witch of them all. No one will be able to question your authority on battling the Dark Arts." He brushed a curl behind her ear, "You must put all of your abilities to the test as this will be the greatest exam of your life. And I will be grading you harshly." He gave a wry smile.

"Severus," she cried then as she nuzzled herself into the crook of his neck, "Severus!" her voice broke as she was already mourning the loss of the man she had given herself to, and the loss of the headmaster she had admired since childhood. After tonight, she would no longer find safety in the stone walls of Hogwarts. After tonight, it would become her lover's bitter prison: something she supposed it always had been. "Take me again," she looked up at him pleadingly, "I want to remember this. I want to remember how your body feels against mine when…"

He brushed her tears away with his nimble fingers. "I want you to remember." Somewhere inside I want to ruin you, to make you feel so good that others mean nothing years after I've gone. As I've said, Hermione, selfish reasons. His eyes begged her forgiveness.

She kissed him slowly, tenderly. And together they took their time exploring one another deep into the quiet of the night.

* * *

She woke up in the morning thinking her Sunday was a Monday due to the unknown and overwhelming dread that flooded her; she had absolutely no idea what the time was. The darkness and comfortable warmth temporarily confused her. As she turned her head she could feel an arm beneath the tangles of her curls. Severus, her heart leapt in her throat. Last night had not been a dream or fevered occlumency session; they really had shared themselves with each other… And it had been beautiful…

Severus wished he had the capability of temporary confusion; to wake up solely focused on another's warmth and forget the on-goings of the dark world outside. But his mind was a honed instrument trained to recall every sordid detail. At least he could cherish last night's memories later on, even if they caught in his throat like bittersweet mead.

"You're awake," His vibrato echoed through her head on his ribcage.

"Am I?" she whispered, molding her body against his midsection, afraid that their experiences would dissolve like some dream in the waking light.

He understood her feelings as his palm traced over the crown of her head, "Unfortunately." They both gave a small smile.

"No, I would say I'm rather fortunate."

"Would you?" He drawled.

"Oh yes," she trailed her hand over the sparse hair on his chest, the tight 'V' of his musculature, down the thickness of his thigh, "very."

His deft fingers cupped her chin and brought her into a knowing kiss, "I believe I am the fortunate one."

"Fortune favors the brave; fortune favors the bold. Are you sure you aren't a Gryffindor, Severus?" She teased.

He gave her a withering look. All she could do was laugh at the ridiculousness. Laugh now, she thought, for the tears are coming.

"Hysterical," he wrapped his arms around her midsection, bringing her back into his chest as the two leaned against the headboard.

"What now?" Hermione's heart thrummed.

"Now… I suppose we put on our masks and face the world as it is wont to see us. We play our roles dutifully, and we win this war."

She leaned her head back to examine his strong profile, committing it to memory. She was happy that he was determined to win. But she was just as determined to not let it be at the cost of his life. She was going to show him a better life: The life he so truly deserved. Even if it killed her.

"What are the roles we're playing today?"

"Potter and Albus are the heroes, returning from their valiant effort of destroying a piece of the Dark Lord's soul."

Only a piece? Hermione's stomach flipped. How many pieces were there?

"You are Potter's supportive friend and grieving classmate in today's production," he looked down at her, "as well as my enemy."

She turned to hug him, her lashes on his collarbone. He held her close.

"I, as always, am the murderous Death Eater devoted to his Dark Lord and Master."

She was about to mumble that he was poorly cast, being that it was the opposite of everything he stood for, but he always had played his role to a tee: The essence of a perfect double agent. Her admiration and remorse hummed through her. "What now?"

"Now, I suppose we get dressed."

* * *

The house elves brought a small breakfast which they ate in relative silence, enjoying their morning tea and coffee in what could possibly be the last quiet hours of their lives.

"Hermione," Severus placed his half-finished coffee on the table, "there is one matter of serious concern that we should discuss."

Her stomach dropped at his expression. She put down her tea as well. "Yes?"

"Your parents will become a target of the Dark Lord once you go into hiding."

She stood from the table, her chair screeching against the floor as she set to pacing, "No! They're not even magic, they're muggles for Merlin's sake! They aren't a part of this war! What use could they possibly-"

"He will use them to draw you out," Severus gave a pained expression as he reached for her hand. "I have seen this before."

She paused, her eyes as big as the saucers their cups rested upon, "What do we do, Severus?"

"Be calm, Hermione. I have a potion planned, but I need your absolute confirmation to follow through. Certain efforts have been taken that may not require the potion, if you so desire it."

"Such as?" her brow flinched.

"I have acquired a house for them in Australia, under the watchful eye of the Aboriginal Magic Administration. They will be safe there."

She took a breath as her pulse grew slower, "Good," she inhaled, "that sounds good."

"But it may not be enough," Severus stood alongside her. "You are their only child caught up in a foreign war that they do not understand. Hermione, look at me when I say this; do you think your parents would willingly do as you say and leave without you?"

"I…"

"Look at me."

"No!" Her tears flowed freely, not knowing she would have to deal with such compiled loss in one day. "They would do everything they could to ensure I went with them, thinking it was for the best. They would use the muggle law…" She gasped at the implications of entangling the two worlds at such a time.

Snape wrapped her in his arms, attempting to give as much comfort as possible, "Precisely."

"…What is the potion?" her voice attempted strength.

"A forget-me potion; counteracted readily by a tincture of forget-me-not at the appropriate time, but the effects are strong. They will forget you ever existed and be compelled to continue their lives without you."

The strength broke in her voice as she held him closer, "Must I lose them, too?"

He kissed her tears away, "This is how you will save them, Hermione, not lose them. They, at least, will be standing at the end of this war. You will have a home to return to, even if it's not in the same place."

She looked up at him sorrowfully, "But… will they forgive me?"

He held her head to his chest. "They will Hermione. If not, you will make them understand. I am certain of it."

"…What if they discover they're better off without me?"

He tsked, "That's about as likely as Voldemort knitting doilies."

"Severus," she smiled into his chest.

"No one, Hermione, not one face on the Earth would have a better life for lack of you."

Her heart warmed at the kindest words she'd heard from the Potion Master's lips. "Thank you." She stalled. "We should do it now, shouldn't we? While Harry's away and Ron's distracted with Quidditch."

"And before hell is unleashed."

"And before all hell breaks loose." She nodded grimly.

* * *

"Issat Hermione?" Her mother with the same vivacious curls looked out the front window.

Her mustachioed husband approached, "So it is, and it seems she's brought one of her magical friends with her." The chestnut hair on his lip twitched at the sight of the older man.

"Mum!" Hermione smiled brightly, "Dad!" hugging them each in return. "It's so good to see you."

"Well, nothing to cry about now, dear!" Her mother sponged at her tears. "But we missed you too. Come in and have a cuppa. Who's this handsome man in the dark colors, hm?"

"Mum!" Hermione gasped.

"Severus Snape," he took the liberty of introducing himself with a firm handshake to each parent. "I have worked with Hermione for several years as her Professor. But I will be retiring from that position rather soon. In that time I have seen her grown into a brilliant young woman."

Hermione swallowed her blush.

"Always been a brilliant one," her father smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "D'you want to hear about the stories I have from when we didn't know she was a witch? Oh, the sparks would dance off her hair when-"

"Dad!" she huffed.

"Yes," Snape smirked, "I believe I've seen that in class."

"Whenever things weren't going right and she was frustrated, oh, she was such a cute little thing!" Her mother pinched her cheek.

"All right, already," Hermione patted her mother's hand. "I'll go make the tea. Have a seat."

She had to do it quick, before she regretted her decision.

The three took a seat on opposite sofas in the living room. While Hermione was in the kitchen, her mom spoke to the dark gentleman, "How are things going at Hogwarts? I've heard there is something like a war going on…"

"You are well informed, Mrs. Granger. There is trouble, but you can rest assured that Hermione is protected."

"I don't know about all that," her father's brow furrowed. "How safe can one be during a war?"

"The castle is enchanted. There are various wards to keep the students from harm."

"Bugger that," he harrumphed, "I don't trust buildings to keep our daughter safe. Can we trust the staff?" His russet eyes burrowed a hole into Snape.

"I, on the other hand, do not trust people easily," Snape folded his hands in his lap. "But your daughter and I have come to share the likes of which I have never known. I will keep her safe. This I promise you with my life."

Both parents sat back in awe as Hermione set the potion-filled tea on the table. She kissed them in turn as she handed them their mugs. "I love you, Mum. I love you, Dad. I hope you know I would do anything for you."

"We love you too, Hermione," Her mother hugged her with confusion. "This sounds like good bye, are you leaving so soon?"

"No mother," she smiled sadly, "I'm not going anywhere."


	16. Chapter 16

The day was a countdown to misery, like some hellish New Year's Eve. After her parents had consumed the potion, she listened from the kitchen as Snape cast a conviction spell on them; telling them that they had always wanted to move to Australia and they were lucky to have recently come into an inheritance that would allow them to do so. She watched as her mother and father nodded in agreement, grasping each other's hands as if it were the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. She smiled through her tears at their happiness. Even if it was false.

Snape joined Hermione in the kitchen as the Granger's, a family of two, began their excited packing. He offered a remorseful hand as the two apparated back to his chambers with a crack that mirrored her splintered heart. She would have them back at the end of this war, she would make sure of it.

"It won't be the last time I tell you I'm sorry, Hermione."

She wrapped her arms around his midsection and he folded her into his embrace. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You've quite possibly saved their lives." She looked up at him in admiration, "You must have had this planned out for a long time. And you alone took the efforts to secure their safe passage... You must think a lot of me."

You haven't the slightest idea.

She hid her face in his chest, "I'm so grateful to have you by my side."

"I'm thankful to be considered by a side rather than on it." He ran a hand over her crown.

"I wish you could remain by my side, always."

"Always," he gestured to her mind, "in here."

"And here," she placed his hand to her heart. "Thank you, Severus."

As he kissed her, he could taste the salt that stained her lips and his lapel.

The two had lunch and dinner delivered to his chambers, spending their remaining moments gaining whatever warmth they could from one another. The overcast clouds were bleeding with rain outside, setting the stage for what would occur that evening. Hermione had always felt independent; she could accomplish any task individually while leading others to achieve their own personal victories. She had done so in academics. She had done so in her adventures with Harry and Ron. She never felt herself to be the weak, clingy type of female. That was until this vulnerable hour when she attempted to assimilate herself with everything that was Severus Snape, tangling her limbs with his on the bed. She felt pathetic but she couldn't bear to pull herself away. The concept of loss was weighing heavily over her humidity-amplified curls. Wasn't love supposed to make you feel strong?

Severus' thoughts were a distorted mirror of Hermione's. He knew love made you weak; it made you so weak that you came crawling through the mud to beg allegiance to the side of whoever would save your beloved. Love was a vulnerability to be preyed upon by the highest bidder. That was the reasoning that had defined his life. He felt the familiar ache once more as he cradled the fragile body against his own. But this love was different from his first love. He didn't want to shrivel up and die in embarrassment or rebel at her misunderstanding. For her, he wanted to be a better man. He wanted to afford her a better future. He was desired for who he was and admired for what he could achieve. Without Hermione, he would struggle to find the reason in this terrible war. In the velvet darkness, there was a light worth fighting for. Yes, love was a vulnerability, but it had strengthened him more than she would ever know.

"Hermione," Snape kissed her forehead. "It is time. I should go."

Hermione wrapped herself around him in a tighter fashion. She felt like a spoiled child: only now, she had no parents to speak of. "You can't Severus, I need you."

He held her closer, "It is for that very reason I must." He stood then, slowly buttoning his robes as Hermione gave a detached stare at his back. He was leaving. Leaving for good. Was this the last time she would feel his warmth? She grasped at his outer layer in desperation. "Remember all I've taught you. I've prepared some necessary items for you on the mantle." He smoothed her unruly hair once more.

"Severus," she gathered her courage, "it may not mean much- and I might know nothing about it-but I, I love you." She looked up at him determinedly.

He smiled then; a sorrowful, knowing smile. "Insufferable Miss Granger, admitting her defeat in matters of understanding." He kissed her deeply and completely. "Foolish girl. To me, it means everything."

By the embers of the fire she watched his exit from the bedroom, robes billowing around him as if he were the oncoming storm. A man to be feared. A man to be admired. The only man she'd ever loved, Severus Snape.

* * *

Once more she awoke in the base camp of her choosing, the morning light streaming in from under the canvas flaps. Her prison. She turned over on her cot, casting a silencing charm on Ron's horrendous snoring. She had dreamed of her first and last night with Severus Snape. She closed her eyes and tried to recall each and every detail. But her happy memories were soiled with blood and regret. She recalled the night she watched him walk out of his chambers. It had taken her a moment to pull herself from the lingering warmth of the pristine sheets, but she was determined not to succumb and wallow in her suffering. Not while the man she loved was out fighting this war, seemingly by himself. She would be strong for him, even when she felt so significantly weak. He said he left some things on the mantle. She walked over to find a note, penned in his hand:

> _I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory..._
> 
> _To be taken and the opportune time and not a moment after._
> 
> _-S.S._

Beside it was a swirling black liquid that resembled the summer sky of her childhood. _Dear gods- he had done it! You're brilliant Severus._ Fresh tears streamed down her face. She reread the words once more "…not a moment after," she gestated. Of course, it was a stopper of death, not something that would recall one from the other side like the Philosopher's Stone. But how long would it work? What did it entail? Oh, why didn't he leave any notes on the subject?! She held the vile close to her heart, only enough for one dose. It must have taken years to perfect and the ingredients must have been few. Noting the small vile she understood, this had been his magnum opus.

Harry now loathed Snape with every fiber of his being. She had no idea that her friend would be front row center for the death of the beloved headmaster. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood when he uttered the word, coward. He was absolutely not a coward. He should have been revered as a hero. But she would not correct her friend. He needed his motivations as Severus had said. Harry would see, if only after the raging storm had settled.

Severus sent through another image of the Carrows being torturous prats. The two communicated telepathically in the early morning hours to have each other's full attention. Catching a partner off guard during a battle could have drastic consequences, after all. That was why Hermione waited on Snape to initiate so that she knew he was unimpeded. Hogwarts looked absolutely horrid in her visions. Her friends carried reddened, spiteful eyes and sunken cheeks. They stared at the new headmaster with enough hate that it could be administered as venom. You're brilliant, Severus; she pushed back with the image of the peaceful meadow they had shared early in training, you're a good man.

She took a breath then and closed her eyes. Perhaps she had scared him with her use of the "l" word. She did not in any way regret it, but he had not yet voiced his reciprocation. Neither did he seem to want to indulge in the fantasies they had shared before the death of Albus Dumbledore. He was a man on a mission now. A radio broadcasting frequencies that only she could hear. Even if they weren't messages of love and longing, she cherished each word and image she received. Stay safe, his silky voice echoed in her mindscape. She would keep them all safe; she would try.

* * *

Once more Ron woke up angry. " **Blimey,** I'm starving. Why don't we ever have anything to eat around here?"

" _Sorry we aren't at your mum's_ ," Hermione bit out. She held her tongue for a moment. "I apologize... Ron, give me that locket. It's putting you in a mood."

"You want it? Take it for all I care!" He tossed it at her harshly.

She fumbled with her catch, placing it uneasily around her throat. "Better?"

"Better, 'Mione," He appeared bashful, his eyes rimmed in purple.

"You still look tired. Get some rest."

He nodded and rolled back to sleep.

She gave a heavy sigh. She did not like the feelings the locket evoked. She was not as predictable as Harry and Ron, grunting and grumbling over the smallest rock in their shoe. She was silent in her crippling depression.

 _Snape is dead… Severus is dead…_ It called out to her in a lonely voice, her lonely voice, as she gathered kindling in the clearing near the tent.

She shook off the creeping sensation as she constructed a fire on which she would make some coffee and eggs. The sticks caught flame with a spell.

_What is the use if you're all alone?_

I'm not alone.

_Your friends will abandon you._

**Never**.

_…Your parents abandoned you._

She swallowed as she wiped her eyes on her sweater.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry stood in a grey sweater, one hand on the opening of the tent.

"I'm fine, Harry," she sniffed.

He sat on a log beside her. "Here, you cooked yesterday." Harry took the pan, "Let me make the eggs." He cracked them over easy in the pan, warming up the kettle on a stick beside the fire. "Scavenged eggs and instant coffee: the breakfast of champions."

"You're a good friend, Harry," she smiled as she wrapped an arm around his back and placed her head comfortably on his shoulder.

Ron now stood, a bit perturbed, at the entrance of the tent. Hermione shifted uneasily. Ronald Weasley still viewed her as more than a friend it seemed and she didn't need that sort of misunderstanding.

"'Morning Ron, how were the nightmares?" Harry attempted a dry joke.

"Awful, mate." He took a seat on a nearby boulder. "I hate that bloody locket."

"Don't we all," Harry stated as they distantly watched the flames lick the kettle.


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione lingered at the edge of her protection spell for what seemed like hours to Harry. The dry autumn leaves crackled against one another in the oncoming winter breeze.

 _Poor Hermione. She must be really torn up about Ron._ He gave a weary sigh as he packed up the tent to give her some time before they had to apparate.

Rather than introspection, Hermione was reaching out to Severus. She knew it could be risky to grab him at an inopportune time, but he had to know the situation. _"Severus…"_ she tentatively pressed forward.

Headmaster Snape was seated at the front of the Great Hall in that moment, attempting to eat dinner. But like much of his students and staff, the Carrows had put him off his tea.

_"Severus…"_

Hermione… it must be something drastic for her to reach me at this hour, He thought to himself. Communication may have been precarious, but multitasking had always been a part of his function. And, as he was loathe to admit, he was far too worried for one seasoned spy. He mentally reached his hand out to hers in affirmation.

_"He's gone."_

_"Potter? …No, of course not. It must be Weasley."_

_"Ron couldn't handle the locket. Do we leave him behind? I'm worried about his safety."_

He felt a twinge at the sorrowful concern in her voice, _"And they call me a coward. Did the boy **once** stop to think about your safety?"_

_"…"_

_"You must change your location, I'm hearing too much word about where you are now… Try not to worry, Hermione: I will check up on Mister Weasley. Now if you'll excuse me, his sister is trying to set fire to my robes. Much like some other insufferable Gryffindor many years ago."_

She could hear his wry smile.

The connection was closed as a cold wall descended. _Oh, Severus._ She gave a worried sigh. _Wait a minute, did that mean **he knew?!**_

Harry's hand wrapped itself around hers. Smaller than Snape's, but its warmth afforded her comfort. She held it tighter as they looked at each other in confirmation. She trusted that Ron would be safe, he'd probably be back with his mum in the hour. It was time to go. The two vanished with a clap of thunder.

* * *

More and more students were growing so bold as to try things against the Carrows and their new Headmaster. Hermione could identify. If she were there and knew nothing of the things her lover had done, she would have hexed him along with everyone else. Torture was the chosen recourse of the administration. What the students did not know was that Severus was just as tormented by the discipline as her classmates were; if not more so when it was by his hand. He would go easy, but he had to make it look damaging to those watching. Which often meant hitting the right area for blood spray. He reached out to her that night about curses boarding on the Unspeakable. She could hear something in Severus' voice that made her scared. At times, she knew, he felt winning this war was not within his grasp; that all this violence was for naught. That they could never surmount the terror that was Lord Voldemort. She reached out, before the Dreamless Sleep took him, and replayed the memories of that perfect night they made love. Love was stronger than hate. Love would win this war. She would make sure of it.

From Severus' reports she could understand his complaints about rash decision making. Not everything is as it seems. But her world was as it seemed, confined to one canvas tent with a demonic locket around her neck and a morose looking Harry Potter. Suddenly, there was a rare break in the droning radio discussions that afforded enough time for an old song to play. She could hardly hear the music through the miserable whispers at her throat. That was when Harry once more held out his hand and asked her for a dance. She accepted, albeit not gladly. As their feet moved inexpertly back and forth, trying not to step on another's toe, she closed her eyes to recall the time she had danced with Severus' honed body at Slughorn's ball. That night seemed forever ago. His body had been so different from Harrys; towering, intimidating, sensuous, adult. What would he think now that his lover was in the clutches of a Potter? She laughed out loud at the thought, the absurdity of her love and the similarities of the two separate lifetimes. She continued to smile as Harry twisted her left and right. The way he spun her almost made her forget the hell they had chosen, but the music was dying and the voices were calling as she lay her head on her friend's shoulder and swayed into the darkness.

* * *

It was near Christmas when Harry suggested that the two go to Godric's Hollow. She'd almost suspected that Voldemort had planted the idea in Harry's mind himself. But as mad as she thought he was, as daft as the idea must have been; he was right. They weren't going to find any leads in the forest. Severus couldn't afford them any information. Asking the Dark Lord where his soul was would simply make his journey to hell faster, in his words.

She sighed in reluctant acceptance of the idea. Both teenagers were seemingly orphans in this time of family cheer. How she wanted to kick Ron for his supposed happiness. He probably had that stupid monogramed sweater on right about now, enjoying a second helping of pie. "You know what Harry, let's go," she huffed. At least they could pay their respects to his family. Hers didn't know she'd ever existed.

 _"Hermione, I beg of you: Do. **Not.** Go."_ Severus' tremulous voice echoed through her. _"We do not have forces stationed there, but I do not see why it wouldn't be a well-laid trap."_

 _"I'm sorry, Severus. It may be our only chance at finding the remaining horcruxes. I know it's dreadful… I hope you'll forgive me."_ With that, the wall was up.

 _Foolish, **foolish** girl!_ His hand swiped the Firewhiskey from the mantle, sending it shattering on the stone floor.

He could see her lifeless body, lying in the same place where he'd once cradled Lily. The very thought sent him clattering to his knees. What could he do? Now he was the one in a trap. He couldn't draw any attention to the girl or the Death Eaters would be upon them in an instant. He must remain in the castle, but his soul was miles away from his body.


	18. Chapter 18

As Hermione lay the wreath on Harry's parents' grave, she thought of the woman that Snape had cared for, for so many years. A once vibrant and loving woman now silent beneath the ground. As silent as the snow that fell on that December evening. It was strange to think of all that life, those dreams, hopes, and years, could be turned off like a light. The thought of Severus under the cold ground had her throat constricted. His nimble fingers no longer cutting ingredients, his brilliant mind no longer inventing solutions to problems the world didn't know existed yet; his mouth no longer eliciting goosebumps from her skin. Such a man couldn't die, he couldn't be reduced to nothing but ash and memory. The wizarding world needed him. She needed him after this, more than anything. Memories alone would never suffice. With this, she began to understand his yearning. It was like swallowing a bittersweet potion. At least she could pursue her love, and she would do so with earnest to show him everything he had missed out on and more. She would overwrite his misery with love. If only he lived long enough to do it.

While Harry was reminiscing, she was keeping watch for their safety. Her eyes picked up a familiar symbol on the graves of Dumbledore's family. It was a circle with a line through it inside of a triangle- some sort of alchemy? No, this symbol was the very same one on the book she'd received from Dumbledore. There had to be a connection. She would look into it later.

Hermione attempted to ignore the suffocating dread entering her mind as she saw the old woman on the street. Perhaps Harry was right, perhaps she had the answers they were searching for. But as they entered the ramshackle house, she could smell the very viscera of death she'd been reflecting on. Someone had died in this house; all too recently. "Harry…" she pleaded, but her friend continued his one sided conversation, unperturbed.

 _"Hermione…"_ Severus' voice implored.

 _"Severus?"_ She stepped out of the room with Harry to allow for a more focused connection, _"We're with an old woman, Bathilda Bagshot."_

_"She's among the dead, Hermione! Get out of there, **NOW!"**_

**What was she?** Hermione stepped back as the ice ran down her spine. She wasn't the typical cursed body, no. The way she moved was almost like-

"Harry, it's the snake! The snake!" She screamed as she ran to retrieve her friend from certain doom.

Nagini had revealed itself; teeth sinking near blows with every strike. "He's coming! Hermoine, he's coming!" Harry cried out as he fought the coiling snake.

Voldemort! She thought as she cast several curses against the serpent. It must have been under some protection spell to resist the high level of magic she used. Something about the snake wasn't right, if she could only place it… Nagini slithered towards her as she struggled to think of something to use. Perhaps she would be the one cold under the ground far before Severus, she panicked.

That was when she felt Harry's arms around her midsection, hoisting her away from the snake. No, she could not be the first to die! She cast a Blasting Curse against Nagini as Harry pulled them through the shattered window. Hermione held her friend tight as she clenched her eyes, struggling to block out the charging snake and think of a place. _Where? Where do we go?_ An image of trees forced its way into her head. _Yes- **there**._ At that moment they disapparated to the Forest of Dean.

* * *

Hermione looked on as Harry's wand was broken, along with his trust in Dumbledore. She felt dually guilty for both. "He changed, Harry, he changed! It's as simple as that! ...Harry, I'm so sorry, but I think the real reason you're so angry is that Dumbledore never told you any of this himself."

Severus had been right. He was always right. Showing a young man the opposite of the persona they knew caused them to question everything. She was glad now that she chose not to inform her friends of the ongoing efforts of Severus Snape. She would be damned if she told them she had anything romantic to do with him. Hermione nearly laughed at the thought of their horror-stricken faces. Yet there was only one face before her. That was right… Ron was still off being a prat somewhere. She huffed in exhaustion after applying Dittany to Harry's physical wounds and attempting some talk to heal his mental anguish. Alas, she had no potion to cure that.

"I'm going for a walk." Harry stood with his back to her at the entrance of the tent.

"Harry, please," she stood to dissuade him.

" _He must go,_ " seeped into her skull. Whether it was Snape's voice or her own she did not know. Hermione sat back on her cot in resignation as she saw the canvas flap close. Let him go then. She got into her cotton nightie and closed her eyes, she was so tired.

* * *

"Hermione," she heard the familiar vibrato whisper outside of her tent.

"Severus? Severus!" she ran to the opening to reveal her lover as she recalled him, lank black hair and dark buttoned robes leading up to that elegant face. "Oh, Severus!" she ran her hands over him as if he were a dream. The headmaster swept her up into his arms as he carried her inside.

"Foolish girl!" He chastised her as he sat her back on the cot, his arms leaning on either side of her. "I thought I told you not to go to there."

"I know, I know…" she cried at the relief of seeing his irritated face. "You were right."

"I could have lost you," he sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around the midsection of a seated Hermione.

"It will be all right Severus," she ran her fingers through his hair. "Our side will win this war."

"Not at the cost of the woman I love!" His eyes observed hers deeply for a moment before he cast them downwards.

"You," her heart leapt, "you love me?"

"I do. I **love** you, Hermione. I wasn't going to tell you because I am lost to this war and it wouldn't be fair. But... damn it all!" He kissed her was a rough passion, seeking to possess all of her. "Can't I be selfish for once in my life?"

"Yes, please do," she kissed him eagerly as he groaned into her mouth in reprieve. Hermione ground into him as his hips met up with her clothed entrance. This caused them both to pull back and examine one another's half-lidded expressions. In the blink of an eye Hermione was going for her nightie and Severus was unbuttoning his trousers.

His hand stalled her from hiking her nightshirt. "We don't have much time," he spoke against her mouth, "leave it on."

That was right… she was still in that blasted tent she had shared for so many months. The thought of being caught caused a naughty thrill she couldn't deny. "Do we have enough time?" she spoke through her kiss.

"I'll make sure of it," Severus revealed his hardened manhood through the fly of his boxers, tugging on it with two broad strokes. Merlin, he was beautiful. The very view had Hermione salivating. She had been rubbing herself without even being cognizant. At the awareness, she pulled back her hand from her already dampened underwear. Severus gave a smirk at her reaction. As he pulled her panties aside as he ran a pointer finger over her entrance, the same he'd once shook at her in reprimand.

She panted at the sensation.

"Are you ready for me?" He queried.

"Always," she pulled him into a kiss, sliding him inside of her as she did so.

" _Ah!"_ He gave a beautiful gasp. Severus held her tight as they pressed into each other repeatedly.

"More," she breathed, "harder! I've wanted you, needed you, so bad! _Severus!_ "

He obliged by lifting her up, thrusting into her in rapid succession. She had never felt anything like it. She moaned against his neck in appreciation.

"Say it, Hermione," he grunted.

She was only vaguely aware of the world around her, feeling the walls tighten inside of her, yet she still wanted to please him. "Hm?" she whined.

"Tell me that you love me," his trusts came harder, almost in admonition.

"I love you, Severus Snape!" she cried, "Ah! I love you so much!"

With that he was spilling himself inside of her, catalyzing her orgasm soon after.

He laid her on the bed, the weight of his clothed body still on top of her. "I love you, Hermione Granger," his deep voice whispered as he kissed her lips and forehead, reluctantly withdrawing himself from within her. When he cast the cleansing charm, she nearly missed the warmth of him creasing the back of her thighs. "Thank you for allowing me to do so."

Hermione held him close, extracting whatever memories she could out of their brief time together. The smell of his aftershave, the feel of his robes, the sound of his voice.

"I'm afraid I must go." He sat back and straightened his attire, making sure that Hermione's dishevelment looked like it came from sleep. "Potter and Weasley will be back any minute." Severus playfully smiled at her expression.

Hermione nearly gagged at the mention. If she had to be stuck in a tent she'd rather it be with the man she loved. But she had no choice in the matter. Well, sans for one; she was going to kick Ron's ass.


	19. Chapter 19

_**"Snatchers!"** _Hermione's frantic voice echoed in Severus' skull as he paced the dining hall after breakfast. Thankfully, during Easter holidays, only a few students and staff were present. He stopped mid-stride. Only an expert on facial musculature could recognize the shift to panic in his eyes. He turned on his heel and swiftly made his way back to his quarters.

 _"Breathe, Hermione."_ He mentally formed the words, though unable to do so himself. _"Explain."_

_"Harry broke the taboo. We're surrounded. I've used a Stinging Hex on him."_

He could hear her quiver. _"Quick thinking for a disguise."_ He reassured her.

_"I've told them I'm Penelope Clearwater."_

Imagine, his Hermione, that vapid waste of a witch? He shivered. **Never.** _"Half-blood status. Good. Maintain your stories. Hopefully Potter and Weasley didn't go shouting their names in a blaze of Gryffindor idiocy."_

" _There's… there's a hairy man here that's grabbing my face."_ He could feel her revulsion trickle down his spine. **_"_** _I know him! I_ ** _t's Fenrir Greyback!"_**

Her revulsion and fear became his own. He fought to keep thoughts of Greyback's hands trailing over the corpses of his victims from invading his connection with Hermione. " _Don't let his mouth near you at all costs._ " Snape struggled to form the words.

Childhood terrors of Lupin seeped at the corners of his mind. His breathing grew harder to control.

 _"…the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with Harry Potter."_ Entered his ears as Greyback's voice.

Then, Hermoine's voice, _" **He knows!"**_

He wanted desperately to tell her that everything would be all right. He wanted to hold her and brush the hair out of her eyes. He wanted to kiss her until every tear stopped falling. Until he felt whole inside once more. Instead, he was beside himself, miles away, adrift in a sea of misdirected hatred. Should he tell her to stay calm when he couldn't do the same? Should he tell her that it would all work out when he knew nothing of the sort?

 _"Where are they taking you?"_ in times of stress, only the practical would do.

_"Malfoy Manor. Severus- he wants to bite me!"_

_"Stay strong Hermione. Tell him it would make the Dark Lord furious and cut down on his monetary reward... I am here… I'm right here with you. I'll be working on the solution from my end."_

_"Severus... I- I love you."_ Her voice was tremulous, but brave.

_"And I you... Always."_

The connection was cut.

* * *

"Well, Draco?" Lucius, looking worse for wear, circled the ensnared boy, "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

Hermione searched Draco's eyes, along with the weariness, there was something that was never there before. Was it empathy? Fear? "I can't- I can't be sure."

Lucius was about to whap his child in the back of the head from exasperation as Bellatrix Lestrange came upon the scene. "You've got him, haven't you?" She squeaked, eyeing the boy.

Lucius straightened his coat, "If this is Harry Potter, the one who shall reveal it will be me." The man was rolling back his sleeve.

"Do not touch your Dark Mark! All will perish if the Dark Lord comes now..." Bellatrix hissed. When she was advancing on Lucius, she noted something shinning from the seized possessions of the prisoners. "What is that?" Her heels clicked insanely against the marble floor. "Boy, what is this?" She directed the question at Harry, raising the sword of Godric Gryffindor. "Where did you get this?" Her eyes narrowed. The only response was silence. "Thieves! That's what you are- this was in my safe!" She began to stun the prisoners in rapid succession. Hermione felt like a speed bag, a tool, for a well-honed boxer.

"This is for your lack of respect!" Bellatrix cried out. "Nephew!" She halted and spun to face Draco. "Move the unconscious men to the courtyard, I may play with them later." Her smile curled. "Greyback, you take the prisoners down to the dungeons." As he was placing his hand on a semi-conscious Hermione, Bellatrix stopped him. "No, not her. I think the Mudblood wants to play right now."

Harry, Ron, Dean, and Griphook were shut into the dungeons in the cellar. "We've got to do something- We've just got to!" Ron squealed as soon as their captors were out of earshot.

"Calm down." Harry attempted to breathe. "Everything will be all right. I'll find a way to get us out of here."

It was then that they heard Hermione scream.

* * *

Bellatrix trailed her gnarled wand over Hermione's delicate face, "Well, my little Mudblood, care to tell me how you got my sword?"

Hermione's determined eyes locked with her captor's, "It's not yours."

 _"Remain calm and impassive. She dislikes dealing with dead fish_." Without Bellatrix's knowledge, Severus was maintaining a connection ever since she had discovered the sword.

Rather than a curse, Bellatrix slapped her, hard enough to leave a handprint. "Everything I touch is mine. Now, you're mine too!" She cackled, pinching Hermione's raw cheek.

 _"Lies. You are your own."_ Severus assured. Although he could not deny the possessive feeling that rose in his chest.

How he wished he could get the Dark Lord on his side. But, to pardon the Mudblood accomplice of Harry Potter? Impossible at this moment. No, he couldn't let Voldemort know that the trio was being held a Draco Manor. That would spell disaster for all involved as Bellatrix had said. Yet, now, due to his inaction, his love was under the wand of the cruelest witch he'd ever known. And she would not go easy. Who could go undetected to aid in her rescue? If it were him, all cover would be blown and chances of their survival afterward would be zero. No. He could deal with his death but not hers. **Never** hers. The rescue needed to be quick, instantaneous. A memory suddenly flashed into his mind of a smaller Hermione; a surreptitiously lifted a button on her table that read S.P.E.W...

Hermione had tried to save House Elves, but a House Elf would need to save her. One without ties or house loyalty. _**Dobby!**_

* * *

 _"Severus, are you there? Severus?"_ Her voice was panicked.

_"I'm here, Hermione. I'm with you. I'm acting on a plan."_

_"No! You can't come here! **They'll kill you!** "_

_"Foolish girl,"_ Snape's voice was soft, almost coddling, _"I'm no Gryffindor."_

A tear slid down her cheek as she tried not to smile.

 ** _"Crucio!"_ **Echoed in his ear; not nearly as deafening as Hermione's scream.

He was no stranger to the curse or its effects. Especially at the skilled hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Yet, somehow it became more torturous. _"Hermione, hold your thumb with your forefingers and count backwards with me from ten: ten, nine, eight, seven…"_

_**"Crucio!"** _

_"…six, five, four, three, two, one. Again!"_ His voice was became strained with emotion as they chanted once more.

* * *

"Hermione! Hermione!" Ron screamed from the basement. He strained against the ropes, unable to break free.

"Ron, she's strong. It will be all right." Harry assured, "We'll get her out, I promise."

"No! It will not be all right." Tears flowed freely down his freckled face. "She's being tortured up there!"

Unbeknownst to them, Luna Lovegood was also a prisoner in the basement. "She's terrible with curses. I'm sorry." The blonde revealed herself.

"Luna!" Harry remarked in awe as she danced around them, cutting their bonds with a rusty nail. "We're so glad to see you."

"Likewise. Although, I wish it were in a better place." She smiled wanly.

Hermione's screams continued above.

"There has to be a way out of here," Harry spoke to himself, frantically rummaging at the pouch around his neck for help. A piece of the mirror Sirius had given him fell to the floor. In it, Harry saw a blue eye. "Help us!" he cried, "We're in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!" He didn't care whoever it was. At this point he was desperate.

* * *

"The… Sword… Is... A… Copy." Hermione felt the blood seep from her mouth between breaths. She'd never been a good liar. Hopefully her time with a certain Slytherin had made her convincing.

 _"Well done, Hermione."_ Snape's voice filled her mind with warmth against the cold, marble floor. Her bones felt like they had been ground to dust. Her fingers could do no more than twitch. Morbidly she wondered if this was how it felt to be on the slab.

"Draco!" Bellatrix ordered the shell-shocked boy, "Bring me Griphook to confirm this Mudblood's story." She turned her face in disgust to the girl on the floor, "He'll know if it's goblin-made. He'll know if your lies are as filthy as your blood."

Snape knew from past experience how words could fester longer than any wound. "You are clean, Hermione. She is the one who's impure."

* * *

"Griphook, you must tell her it's a fake. Please..." Harry implored upon hearing Bellatrix's command.

The globin gave the boy a self-serving look.

"This war affects us all. Do you really think they'll just stop at wizards? No one is safe. They think everyone is beneath them. Do you want to live your life in chains?"

The goblin's glassy eyes shifted then, in an introspection Harry deeply wished he could explore.

As Harry watched Draco take Griphook up the stairs, he felt his soul go with them. He didn't know where things would go from here. He didn't trust that his five minute talk could truly change the goblin's heart.

There was a faint crack of apparition behind him then, and Harry's green eyes grew wide in astonishment.

"Harry Potter, Dobby has come to rescue you!"


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione could hear the ocean, smell the salty air; she could feel the soft sunlight on her face. Was this it? Was this what heaven felt like? Had she died before she could save the man she loved from the very same fate?

 _No… This wasn't heaven._ She could still feel the ends of her nerves burning, a potion working its course through her neurons.

Severus' plan had come through. His brilliance was the foremost thing that attracted her. She felt a sudden rush of pride as she tried once more to move the ligaments in her fingers.

A hand; a warm broad hand encompassed her own. _Had they both made it through?_

"...Severus?" Her voice was weak as her eyes blinked against the foreign light. Her fuzzy vision adjusted to one Ronald Weasley, his weary, tear-streaked face holding all the shock and betrayal it could muster.

"Ah, Ron?" She tried to sit up in the frilly lace sheets and failed, her weight falling back against the plush pillow. The bed looked like something that would belong to Fleur.

"Him?" Ron's voice went from shock to anger, "Him? Snape?" She could see the redness at his ears. "Hermione, do you know what he's done to our friends? You do know that he's a Death Eater don't you? That grimy dungeon bat. Why would you ask for him?!"

She felt a sudden fear quicken her heart, "Ronald…"

"Don't you Ronald me." He shook his head as he paced back and forth, soon returning to the wooden chair at her side. Then, he poked her arm rather hard. "You need to tell me the truth, 'Mione. What the bloody hell is going on with you?"

"Me?" She felt her own heat rising, "Me?! I just got tortured until my nerves were fried! What in the name of Merlin do you think is going on, Ron? We're fighting a war. We don't need a fight between allies right now."

Shame covered his face then and sank backwards into his chair, his arms crossing tightly. He looked at the floor. "I didn't mean what's going on with you and Harry and me, I can see that. I saw what happened. I heard you scream. I tried to apparate from that dungeon, but I couldn't save you." His lip quivered a bit.

"Who-," her eyebrows furrowed as she swallowed to recover her weak voice, "Who did?"

"Dobby." If it was possible for his eyes to look any sadder, they did. "He's dead."

"Dobby!" Hermione breathed. Dobby worked at Hogwarts, didn't he? That must have been Severus' plan. "Oh, Dobby…" Tears pricked at her eyes. She always had a soft spot for House Elves. But she never expected one would risk their life for hers.

They both sat in silence a moment.

"Harry is giving him a fine burial right now. He died a free elf."

"I see." A single tear fell as she once more examined the linens.

The silence renewed until Ron broke it, cautiously this time. "Still, 'Mione. I need to know. Why would you call for Snape with a smile on your face?"

She couldn't possibly tell him. She could never come right out and say, I've been shagging the Death Eater Headmaster! Still, she had to make it plausible. Ron wasn't the most intelligent person on paper, but he knew people. He could read them better than any book.

"I-" she stalled, "I was dreaming. Maybe I had something of a schoolgirl crush on him."

"Blimey!" Ron recoiled with a look of revulsion, pulling his hands into himself.

If she had the strength to swat him, she would. Yet she could only narrow her eyes in defiance. "Yes. That's the same face I made when your tongue was down Lavender's throat. I think we can both agree that we don't have to like one another's romantic choices."

"Why would you ever like him?" Ron's face appeared to be permanently scrunched.

"He's brilliant."

"I mean, yeah he worked well with potions, but-"

"And spells."

"And spells," Ron gave her that. "But he's evil! He's the right hand man to You-Know-Who."

"I didn't know that at the time."

"And he's just so… greasy." Ron shivered.

"He is not!" Hermione defended. "It's only because he uses essential oils to cleanse his hair. I mean, I had to do a bit of trial and error on my haircare as well."

Ron swallowed, looking even more terrified. "How would you know?"

"Girls know, Ronald." She huffed.

"Right. So maybe it's not about the superficial with you," Ron continued, "but he's a horrible person, a coward. He's killed people. I mean, did you hear about what happened with Harry's mum?"

" **ENOUGH!** " Hermione cracked. Her nerves were literally frayed. She didn't want to hear it. She knew she had to keep up appearances to not blow his cover and to keep Ron and Harry on track, but she couldn't deal with them badmouthing the man she loved. They knew nothing of the truth. With all her being she hoped someday they would. Someday they would accept…

She looked at Ron's pale face with guilt. He really knew nothing. She pitied him in that moment. "I'm sorry Ron," her voice was weak once more, tinged with fear and regret. "I just don't want to talk about the past. It doesn't matter now. All that matters is putting an end to all of this. Then we can have a long talk if you still want one. Okay?"

"Sure, 'Mione," Ron nodded hesitantly, something in his gut telling him he didn't have the full story. And, perhaps, he never wanted to. "Whatever you say."

* * *

How she wished it were a time where she could laugh, wrapping her arms around Severus' neck while he sat by the fire reading some legendary book, as she touted, "I've just ridden a dragon. Can you imagine that?" And he would give a quirk of his lips, a smile she had only come to know it as with time and patience, as he delivered some eloquent quip with his deep vibrato beside her ear. She would swat at him playfully and resign herself to joining him by the fire with her own book and tea in tow.

A peaceful world unnamed between them, there, in that space.

But this time was not that time. This was a time of torture, starvation, and near defeat. She wondered if they ever would reach that time- either of them. If any wizarding household would ever feel safe again. If she could ever call out "Mum!" or "Dad!" and have two smiling faces answer her in proud recognition. No. Such things were getting harder to picture each day. The end, possibly of everything she had come to know, was near. Today, they would walk in upon Severus in his starring role. And she knew, with seeping dread, how well they would both play their parts.


	21. Chapter 21

Aberforth had treated them well, offering their weary souls both food and compassion. Neither of which could completely fill the swiftly deepening void inside Hermione. A void of sorrow and uncertainty.

"Give up," the old man pleaded. "Go into hiding and save yourselves. There's nothing for you here."

" _That's just it._ We've **been** hiding," Hermione's voice rose from behind a mug of untouched Butterbeer. "There is nothing for us out there either."

Her eyes were too cold for someone of her years. They'd seen too much. Felt too much.

Harry's hand met the wooden table in determination. "I've trusted Dumbledore through all of my years at Hogwarts. Maybe his methods were not always the best... Maybe, even, he wasn't the man that I thought him to be." He took a moment of silent introspection before turning his eyes to Aberforth. "But I trust his judgement. This task has to be seen through no matter what."

Aberforth stroked his beard in contemplation. "You do _realize_ it's a suicide mission?"

The trio exchanged knowing looks and turned to their elder. Harry gave a solemn nod.

"Very well. If you insist on finishing what he started." Aberforth motioned towards Ariana's portrait. The lithe blond smiled warmly and turned down a dirt path. Suddenly, the three were met with one bruised and battered Neville Longbottom peering out from behind the frame. Upon the sight of his friends, a broad smile crossed his face as if there were no marks there at all.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" He stepped out. "You're all here!"

"Neville?" Hermione had to crane her neck to look at him. "Is that you? You've grown so much!" Her arms encircled him in a warm hug.

"Yeah, it's me," he chucked as he returned her embrace, greeting each friend in turn.

"You look awful," Harry's brows crumpled in concern.

"Yeah? You all don't look so great yourselves."

The four students entered the secret passageway behind the portrait that would lead them to Hogwarts. The only place they knew that could hide the remaining Horcruxes. The end was near, but much like the dark and seemingly boundless tunnel they were in, she couldn't see it.

"What's happened to you?" Ron pipped up to Neville.

"Snape's got Death Eaters running the school." Neville's breath caused the candle flame to waiver. "Most of the kids 'ave been hiding in the Room of Requirement year round."

"That's horrible!" Harry started.

Ron sent a searching glance Hermione's way. One she chose to ignore. Yes Ron, she thought, I know. I know so much more than you would ever want to envision. That's why you have no right to look at me that way.

"And the worst, or maybe best part, depending how you look at it, is that nobody can seem to find him when he's not around the Carrows."

Not because he's a coward, she wanted to shout. "Neville," Hermione interrupted, "It must have been awful- the things you've seen, the things you've felt. We're here with you now. We want to end this today."

"Thanks Hermione," he spoke softly, "and not a minute too soon."

As the light erupted from the end of the tunnel, so did a tremendous applause. It was strange, Hermione thought, seeing more than two or three humans at a time. This was normal, she had to remind herself. This was what home felt like, once upon a time.

It didn't take much to convince the students in hiding of helping Harry finish Voldemort. Even as they gained allies, Hermoine sank at the possibility of more lost lives. Morever, they still had no idea what the remaining Horcruxes looked like or where to find them. It was a suicide mission, as Aberforth had said. Still, the Gryffindors hopes had remained relatively high. That was until Ginny stepped forth from the crowd.

"Harry," she spoke in a tremulous whisper, "Snape knows about your break in. He wants everyone in the Great Hall."

At those words Hermione's mind went blank, a distant humming grew in her ears as her mouth went dry. How would they see an end to Voldemort if Snape put an end to Harry first?

_...And, if he did, could she ever truly forgive him?_

* * *

Hermione marched with her classmates to the beat of some unheard funeral drum. At long last she was going to see the man she loved. With dread, she hoped, no she would ensure, that it wouldn't be the last time she could lay eyes on his elegantly strong visage.

This time of meeting, however, would be unlike any other. She tangled her shaking hand in Harry's in order to steady herself and gain his strength. When she met Severus this time, it would be on opposite sides. In the crowd of students, Hermione felt that she alone knew the battle was not black and white, as it appeared. She could feel the light glowing at Severus' core, dying in the shadow he cast to the world. Likewise, she could feel the seed of darkness, revenge and despair, growing inside of her brilliantly painted façade. No one, not one of them there, was simply evil or good.

That was, aside from the one man she would be certain to destroy by the end of this night: Voldemort.

* * *

Snape's mind was a marble obscurity. He would ensure that no one, not even himself, could feel the anguish upon first sight of his beloved looking at him with such hatred. Even if it was a falsehood, he could not bear to sear the image into his skull, his heart, and yet… he couldn't bear to lose what may be his last chance to admire the angel that had saved him, albeit briefly, from the demons that tormented his soul. He needed to see her.

 _ **Gods**_ , in this moment, now and hereafter, he needed to see her.

Snape stalled after he strode to the front of the Great Hall. He looked out the grand windows, surveying a quiet, natural world outside that knew nothing of the raging storm within.

He turned, "Many of you are surely wondering why I have gathered you here this evening. It has come to my attention that Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade." He let the whispers begin. "Now, should any student attempt to aide Mister Potter, they will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgressions. Any person found to have knowledge of these events that fails to come forward will be treated as equally guilty."

He began his movements forward, suppressing the urge to call out to her, _Hermione, Hermione…_

He continued his talk as his eyes scanned the crowd.

Her pulse sped up to meet his anguished cries. Despite his skill of the mind, he had failed to muffle his heart. So much so that she had missed the words he was speaking until, "…I invite you to step forward. Now."

She did not know if the deafening silence was real or brought on by the blood pumping in her ears.

It was then that Harry released her fingers to step forward, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.

Hermione felt her fingers grow cold as they dangled in midair. They reached outward and upward seemingly begging for Severus to grasp them.

His head tilted back in the surprise of the gesture, the moment. There was no hate in those chestnut eyes, only fear. And that fear shook him to the core.

He had lost himself so much in that second, in her eyes; that his instincts did only return once Potter had finished his speech. At the boy's words, **"…tell them!"**

He arched his wand in response.

That was when Minerva took a step forward, blocking the boy who lived and sending hexes he'd thought only belonged in circles of Dark Arts. At first he felt relief. Relief that he needn't put Hermione's life in danger, relief at not darkening his soul with further blood lost from children, relief at not harming the boy he had worked so hard to protect, relief at not dying before he could express… there was so much he wanted to express. Then, there was frustration. Frustration at being placed in this position, frustration with Dumbledore for leaving every single soul in the dark sans his own, frustration at battling one of the toughest witches he had known and, yes, admired. Frustration of always being just out of the reach of the light, yet striving for it with all his might. _Enough._ This act was through.

He looked to Hermione once more, the only truth in his world.

The chamber, Severus' deep vibrato echoed within Hermione as she watched him swirl into something of a black snow and disappear through the window, the gust of his exit extinguishing the lights.

In the darkness, her fingers still reached towards the place where he once stood.


	22. Chapter 22

In the wake of the battle, Hermoine noted how Severus had deflected her Professor's spells at the Carrow siblings, effectively knocking them out. Even when the crowd was branding him a coward, she wondered how they could not see the evidence to the contrary. Because he did not want them to see. Rather than a coward, he was a master manipulator, a humble hero. She smiled, a Slytherin through and through.

The revelry of McGonagall's victory was suddenly cut short by a terrible screeching. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like nails on a chalkboard. Then a harsh, grating voice came forward, nothing like the velvet tones that belonged to Snape. For a moment Hermione feared the worst: Voldemort had invaded her skull. "We need not fight like thisss. No magical blood need be spilt." He hissed, "Give us Harry Potter and your lives will be spared." She gasped for air as the cold feeling left her.

The crowd was silent, everyone looking at one another, then in her direction. Soon, one terrified Pansy Parkinson was pointing towards her. "Don't just stand there, grab him!" Hermione looked to her left to see Harry looking pale. She knew Pansy was scared, but how could she be so selfish? So naïve? Hermione reached out and took Harry's arm with strength, as Ginny came forward and held his other hand. One by one, the members of Dumbledore's Army surrounded them, choosing their side.

 _"Filch!"_ Now-Headmaster McGonagall ordered, "Take the Slytherin students to the dungeons until we know of their affiliations."

" **No,** " Hermione whispered among the merriment of her peers. " _No, but they've done nothing wrong! They're just as scared and lost in this as any of us!_ "

Her voice was unheard by the crowd.

 _Oh, Severus,_ her heart sank in understanding, _how lost they are without you to protect them_. In that moment, and many after, she felt shame for the house of Gryffindor. She felt shame on her wizarding brothers and sisters for doing just as Voldemort had, judging others by the superiority of their blood. There was only one way out of this. One way to save them all.

The chamber, Hermoine thought, the chamber… Severus knows what we're aiming to do and he's sent us a clue, the horcrux is in the chamber! Did he mean his chambers? Hermione flushed for a moment at the memory, a single searing heat drawn across her like a razor in the somber evening. She would never forget that night for as long as she lived. She would fight to not have it only live on in memory. Think, would Voldemort let Severus keep it? No, he would not trust him with such a thing. He trusted no one, for he had no heart. What other chamber do we know of? Think, Hermione… Aha! It must be the Chamber of Secrets! She swallowed, no, Ravenclaw wouldn't be represented there in the snake filled corridors. What else could he be sending us to aside from a horcrux? Oh! Severus, you bloody genius, you. "The Basilisk!" she shouted.

She tore the boy-who-lived away from the crowd. "Harry, we can destroy the horcrux with the Basilisk fang! If there's enough venom left, we could destroy both."

Harry smiled, "Great idea, 'Mione!" He stalled a moment, defeated, "We have the cup, but we don't even know what the horcrux from Ravenclaw would look like."

"Probably something garish," Ron rolled his eyes, "like that damned locket."

Luna Lovegood had long ago turned from the crowd of revelers to note the dejected concentration on Hermoine's face. They each shared one thing that bothered them. Though Hermione had something mysteriously more bothersome. She approached her three friends. "Jewelry from Ravenclaw? How about Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem?"

Harry searched for approval from the crowd.

Cho Chang shook her head, "No one alive today has seen it."

"I didn't say they had to be alive," Luna tilted her head.

For a moment in the dark night, there was a beacon of hope that they would all see tomorrow.

* * *

What had started as a battle between teachers that day had sinisterly shifted into an all-out war. They had known this was coming. Hermione, perhaps, most of all. And yet, for all their planning, they were utterly unprepared. She would rather live a millennia in that tent with the locket strapped to her neck than see her classmates glassy eyed and unmoving, sprawled across the stairs. It was sickening, it was terrible, but she would refuse to think it was their fault. It was not Harry's fault, it was not Severus' fault, she steeled herself; it was not even Dumbledore's fault no matter how much the seething hatred ate at her this moment. It was that of the snake-like tormenter who lived off of the oppression of others. The very man, if she could call him that, who was fighting his way into the castle to end her friend's life. But, she would be sure to end him first. She needed to end him; she needed to end him quickly before he- oh gods- she couldn't think that right now. She had the task at hand to accomplish. Harry went with Luna to find the lost diadem, while she and Ron had descended into the bowels of the Chamber of Secrets. For a moment she was in architectural awe, being petrified in her second year had kept her from experiencing this particular adventure. In a way, she was thankful.

And there it was, the deadly Basilisk that had petrified her once upon a time. Now, nothing but bones. Severus had known about this fantastic beast, did he come down here to collect the venom? Had he used it in his magnum opus, the stopper of death? She put a hand to her jacket's breast pocket for an instant, recalling the vial's purpose. It was for Harry, he'd said. To be used at the opportune time and not a moment later…

 **No.** She would make sure it didn't come to that. They would win this fight on their own terms. They would win, and then she would happily place the vial in Severus' waiting palm. Her optimism faltered for a moment as her treacherous mind whispered, if that palm has a pulse.

She crept up the bones of the creature whilst Ron waited on the dank floor with the cup. Hurry, her breath rushed in and out, hurry. She snapped one of the Basilisk's fang's with a significant amount of force, her adrenaline pushing her onward. With that, she hopped down from the skeleton. As she straightened herself from the fall she looked at Ron.

In that instant, each knew something terrible would occur when the horcrux was no more. He gave her a nod of encouragement, "Go on."

She grit her teeth then, raising the fang over her head as Ron held the object steady.

 ** _For Severus!_ **She thought as she drove the spike into the metal object with a cry. It fizzled and popped with a black smoke. They leapt backward as the ghastly head of Voldemort arose from the charred remains, emanating a rattling wail.

 _Could that be it?_ She thought, _was he so weakened?_

No. There were echoes, just like the tremors after an earthquake. She glanced around her. "The water!" she looked to Ron with widened eyes, "Run!"

The two wasted no time, tiles clicking beneath their feet as they burst forward towards the exit. But it was no use. The tsunami curled above them, flattening them with its force as it fell. As all went black and Hermione couldn't breathe, her mind regressed to the last time she'd seen such a large wave.

_She was a child at the shore with mum and dad. As that wave had washed over her, her bemused mother and father stood over her, laughing along when they'd seen she was okay._

She blinked now as the water receded. She was not staring up at the summer sun or the smiles of the parents who had forgotten her. Above her there was only candlelight. She sputtered in the pain of the moment. Her head lolled to face a partially standing Ron. He offered her his hand, now clammy with water. She took it gratefully. Together they pulled each other up.

 _She would see their smiles again,_ she repeated with each step, _and they would be for her._ Perhaps puzzled and afraid at first, as they had been before, but slowly aware that their daughter was safe.


	23. Chapter 23

The Dark Lord hissed, recoiling as if he were in pain. The members of the Death Eater inner circle kept a collective mask of detachment and disinterest. All, Severus noted, except for Lucius. Hide that hope from your eyes, you fool, Severus glanced at a haggard version of his colleague. He had once been the apple of every witches' eye in their year. Lucius was born with a certain aloofness that only came from wealth and pure breeding. He'd never wanted to be part of a war. No. He'd only wanted to be a part of something that made him worth more: A real commodity. Now, as the look in his wife's eyes said, he was less than nothing.

_How the mighty had fallen._

Bellatrix Lestrange reacted by pawing at her master, "My Lord! What is it?"

"Enough!" The snake-like demon (for Severus would no longer call him a man) threw her off. "Severus," his furious red eyes came to rest on the potion's master, "walk with me."

* * *

Singed with ash and stinging from the flames of Fiendfyre, Hermione rolled backwards from the entrance to the Room of Requirement. "Quickly!" she shouted at her spectacled friend. Harry raised the basilisk fang and struck at the diadem with purpose. A faint screeching could be heard as Ron wasted no time kicking it into Goyle's Fiendfyre.

Just as the door to the room was closing, Hermione looked up with terror and belated elation at Voldemort's face forming in the flames. The room abruptly sealed his tomb. She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. They had dispatched with another horcrux! Now all that was left was that loathsome snake! Hermione coughed some smoke from her lungs and smiled at her allies.

Dusting herself off, she rose from the floor.

The group paused for a moment to analyze one Draco Malfoy standing across from them. He had lost Goyle. He had lost Crabbe. Essentially, he had lost who he was. The blank look on his face said it all. For now, it seemed, her friends had little time for sympathy. The shrieks of their fighting classmates had lead them to focus on the fray.

"Come on, Hermione!" Harry called over his shoulder as he and Ron were clearing a path.

Hermoine stood there for a moment, examining her once-enemy's clear eyes. He was bereft. In that instant, she could see the same look on a young Severus' face: orphaned by everything he knew and loved. The only thing she could do was wrap her arms around his cold form, even if he could not return the gesture.

"'Mione!" Ron called.

She pulled herself away from him. He swallowed back the pain as she placed her hands on his shoulders. They exchanged a mournful silence.

"Let's go!" Ron cried once more.

At that, she turned to arm herself once more.

* * *

The Shrieking Shack was as hideous and insidious as it always had been. "It's meant to be the most haunted building in Britain," Severus recalled Hermione's recitation from one of her several books. How strange that those words would send a shiver down his spine, as if they were a prophecy of his own demise. It was here that Albus had encouraged the Marauders to aide Lupin in Lycanthropy. It was here that Severus had developed one of his recurring nightmares, being devoured by werewolf. It should be fitting that he would die here from the nightmare occurring this day. In fact, he would have welcomed the end, _if not for Hermione…_

* * *

 _"Severus?"_ Hermione reached out. " _Where is the snake? We're winning, Severus! I know it! We just need Nagini!"_

 _"All points go to Gryffindor."_ Severus smiled dryly in her mind. _"You'll be happy to hear then, that the snake is with me."_

Ice ran through her veins. " _With you? Why would it-?"_

 _"In this short time you have healed my heart. I hope it won't have damaged yours."_ His voice grew sorrowful. "Y _ou were my first reciprocal love. With all I'm worth: I've loved you, Miss Granger."_

 **"Severus!"** Hermione screamed aloud.

Harry and Ron turned to look at her in startled confusion.

Tears streamed from her eyes, "He's with the snake!" she stuttered, "The Shrieking Shack! The snake!" At that, her feet were faster than a doe's hooves in the forest.

Harry and Ron looked at one another. They did not know how she knew. They did not know why. One thing they knew for certain: not to question Hermione. Both boys darted after her through the pervasive darkness of night.

Hermione slammed her fist onto the notch on the Whomping Willow, begging for access. She had always been one for plans. In her early years she'd have everything thoroughly written out, researched, and calculated. But something within her changed with that potion, during her fifth year. For now, she had nothing in her mind but desperation. _See Severus. **Save** Severus._ Her mind chanted with each beat of her heart.

* * *

"ssSeverus," a dark voice hissed.

Hermoine nearly hurled herself from the room in which she was hidden. Harry reached out and held her fast. She turned to look at his green eyes, which contained every expression of restraint. She knew her death would accomplish nothing. They could not finish Voldemort here, not with Nagini protected. They could not reveal themselves without killing Harry and leading the wrong side to victory. And so, in the shadows they hid. For all they could do was watch.

The room beyond was dimly lit, but she could see Nagini, swirling and coiling like a serpent underwater, safe in her enchanted, starry sphere, which floated unsupported in mid-air. He could see the edge of a table, and a long-fingered, white hand toying with a wand. Then Snape spoke, and her heart lurched: he was inches away from where she crouched, hidden.

"... my Lord, their resistance is crumbling –"

"– and it is doing so without your help," said Voldemort, in his high, clear voice. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there ... almost."

"Let me find the boy," Snape's voice was passive, as if he had accepted his fate, "Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please."

Snape strode past the gap, and Hermione drew back a little. She tried to keep her bleary eyes fixed upon Nagini, wondering whether there was any spell that might penetrate the protection surrounding her. Years of knowledge were reduced to nothing. All she could see was his red ink scrawled neatly on her pages. And soon that ink became blood.

Severus cried out as Nagini struck his throat. Hermoine bit her lip clean through as she buried her head against Harry's chest. The gurgling noises he had made would haunt her long after. That noise was all she could focus on as Voldemort exited the scene. Harry shook her then, bringing her back into the moment. "He's gone."

She stood with the help of her friends, walking on wobbly knees until she collapsed at Severus' feet. There was blood. So much blood that his dark robes had become slick and shiny. She paled, doubling over, and held herself as Snape spoke to Harry. There must have been so much he needed to say. A lifetime.

"Take it," he rasped, _"take it."_

Hermione looked up to see a vial collect his tears.

 _ **A vial…** _the word echoed in her empty skull.

Much like the one in her coat pocket. She hadn't much time. "Harry," she squeaked, correcting her voice with strength, "there's a pensive in Dumbledore's office. Ron I need you to guard him."

"'Mione, what about-" Ron began.

"I have something I need to finish here!" She blinked the tears from her eyes. "I'll be safe. I swear it." She gave them a determined look, "Now go!"

Ron looked back with hurt in his eyes, knowing full well this had something to do with what she'd said at the cottage. But, this would be the only time she could receive closure. He sighed, so be it. The two boys nodded and ran off just as Voldemort was making another declaration.

Hermione grasped the swirling vial from her inner coat pocket, uncorking it with her teeth.

Severus' glassy eyes grew wide as he shook his head, wheezing "For… Harry…"

"No!" Tears streamed past her chin. "I'm so sick and tired of you living your life for Harry. Haven't you once thought of me?" She hiccupped, "I need you!"

His brows furrowed as he eyed her thoughtfully.

"I believe in him. I know Harry. He doesn't need this potion, Severus, you do!" Her voice weakened, "…Can't you be selfish? For me?"

Severus cupped her cheek with his cold fingers, caked in blood. The opportune moment was slipping. Soon she would realize this, and she'd be able to use the vial for its correct purpose. He looked up at her warm eyes and truly knew love before he would close his forever.

"Severus!" She cried as his hand slipped from her cheek, leaving a crimson trail. Swiftly, tilting her head back, she emptied the potion contents into her mouth. In an instant, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. With her tongue, she ensured that he swallowed every last drop.

* * *

Hermione pulled back, feeling Severus' blood began to cool and congeal, sticky on her lips. She rubbed it aside with the cotton of her sleeve. When she could not see the rise and fall of his chest she pressed her ear to it in desperation.

"No, Severus, please!" she wailed as the tears fell unbidden, "You can't leave me here, not like this," her fists grasped the slick fabric.

Voldemort had just made a decree that Harry Potter need hand himself over or more would perish. The commotion was silenced outside as each side dealt with their dead. She listened for a heartbeat in a quiet, which had become as thick as a grave. When she had almost given up; there came the telltale thrum of life. She felt his breath of air on her face. All she could do was cry from happiness. She cried from anger, and from relief. After a while, she pulled herself away. She would have to be strong. The night was not yet over. Severus had only consumed a stopper of death. She would need to aide him in recovery once the war had been won. She looked around, the shack was a relatively safe and unknown place. No one would come looking for him here. And if Voldemort returned, she would need to leave him where he lay or it would arose suspicion. For now, she would leave him to slumber in what could have been his tomb.

In the empty vial, she relinquished several drops of Basilisk venom that could serve as an antivenin for Nagini. She placed it in his left hand, folding it closed. "I'll be back Severus," she caressed the caked hair from his face, "once this war is won. I promise." With that, she stood and began her long walk to the solemn castle.

* * *

Dead. So many were dead. Colin Creevey, Lavender Brown. Lupin. Tonks. …Fred Weasley. She felt the need to cry again but found her eyes were dry. A numbness and detachment was settling in. These halls used to be filled with so much joy and laughter: Gossiping portraits. Perturbed teachers. Mischievous students. Innocence. Now, in the ruins, lay her wounded and dying classmates. She looked to Ron's bereft face.

"I'm **so** sorry," she whispered as she folded him into a hug. Perhaps it would have been different. Maybe everything could have been changed if she- No. She wouldn't think about that now. What was done was done. She couldn't have prevented these events. This loss of life was Voldemort's fault. But, the dread crept in. She had made a choice. A terribly heavy choice. In the deepest recesses her mind whispered, you have chosen Severus over Harry. Your selfishness has doomed them all. Inner turmoil swirled within her. No! She would refuse to give in to doubt. She believed in Harry, she trusted him. She knew he would make it through. He would.

_…Wouldn't he?_


	24. Chapter 24

Severus was weak. His limbs felt like lead and his tongue was just as heavy. All he could do was roll his head to the side and cough to aide his breathing. _What had happened?_ He felt the slickness covering his body. More blood lost than there ever was before. _Was he dead?_ Nearly.

 _Foolish girl,_ his face flickered with uncharacteristic emotion. _Why save him? What was he worth?_ Certainly not more than a world without the Dark Lord.

 **…No.** As long as he were alive, he would not allow it to be so. He had only sacrificed his life in order to bring about Tom Riddle's end. He swallowed then, desperate for water. In his search to sooth his parched throat, he came upon the vial in his left hand. _Had she not used it to save him, after all?_ With his remaining strength, Severus brought the vial to his nose and inhaled.

This was not his magnum opus, _no_. The odor was rare yet familiar- Basilisk venom. He closed his eyes and breathed out his nose. _So eager to keep me alive are we? Well, Miss Granger,_ he pressed the venom to the wound at his throat and performed a wordless spell, _you had better take responsibility._

Magic resources depleted, Severus closed his eyes to rest.

He had done his part in the fight.

He entrusted the rest of the battle to her capable hands.

* * *

In the stagnant stall of battle, Voldemort requested for Harry to duel him in the forest.

"You can't!" Hermione shouted as she saw the determined look on her friend's face.

Harry placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I must, Hermione. This is the way it has to be. Trust me." With a warm nod to Ron, he walked towards the darkness of the woods armed only with a golden snitch.

 _Why? Why does he seem so confident that this is the way it has to be? Did he see something from his childhood in Severus' memories? …His childhood_. It was in that moment that Hermione understood, **Harry was a horcrux** : a horcrux that Voldemort had never meant to make. Harry must die. _What had she done?!_ She'd taken away Severus' carefully crafted solution. She had chosen her lover over her friend.

In despair, she fell to her knees among the rubble, mind scrambling to convince herself that she had faith in Harry's perseverance. Yet, the noxious guilt ate at her. She had selfishly chosen to save the man she loved, without a thought to the fate of the wizarding world. Would they be safe? Would they even be together if Voldemort ruled? Would she be alive? Hermione hyperventilated as fearful tears fell unbidden. She had doomed them all. Out of her self-induced fog, Ron placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Everything will be all right 'Mione," he ineptly tried to convince her.

"No, Ron!" She looked to him desperately, "It won't! Harry's going to die!"

Ron knelt beside her, sweeping her into a clumsy hug. "You said it yourself, you believe in him. He's going to make it through and bring an end to all this."

"I lied!" Hermione was inconsolable, "I've killed him! _Perhaps I've killed us all!"_

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Ron distanced himself, his hands remaining on her shoulders.

"I-" she feared the stark look in her friend's eyes, "I saved Severus."

"What?" If it was possible for Ron to be any paler, he was. "How? Why?" He took a shuddering breath, "You know what: Never mind. What does any of this has to do with-"

 _"I should have saved Harry!"_ She wailed.

"'Mione," Ron's wide eyes examined her, "You- you bloody love that grimy git, don't you?" He spit the distasteful words out of his mouth.

Her crying halted as she struggled to speak.

"You do," a lone tear trailed his soiled face, "You have, all this time… How could you? _For **that**?!"_

"Don't!" Her sorrow grew vengeful, "He was going to save us all. It was my fault. I chose to save him instead!"

"No." Ron shook his head, "The Hermione I know would never do that." his hands dropped from her shoulders, "We've spent all this time, all this effort. You've never failed us. You've never faltered." He sat beside her in the rubble. "There has to be something I don't understand… Hermione." He looked to her, "Tell me everything."

* * *

"Harry's a bloody horcrux?" Ron stared towards the woods. "I mean I knew he could be a bit surly but…"

"That's why he has to die, or at least a part of him has to, in order to leave Voldemort vulnerable to death."

"Bloody hell." Ron wrapped his arms around his legs. "But, then, it's not your fault."

"What?" Hermione exhaled in confusion.

"Hermione, he has to die. The potion Snape invented puts a stopper in death. That means that the horcrux would never be vanquished."

Hermione swallowed as she examined the dried blood on her hands, "Of course! Severus invented it to keep Harry safe from Voldemort but he never figured out that Harry was a horcrux! Dumbledore probably tasked him with making the potion as a failsafe."

Ron smiled sorrowfully at her, "Guess that makes me the professor now."

"Merlin." She inhaled, "But, if Harry's dead, how does he defeat Voldemort?"

"Maybe the guy just keels over?" Ron took a guess.

"That doesn't seem right." Hermione bit her lip, "Ron, what did Harry take into the forest with him?"

"Looked like the snitch to me. The one he's been obsessing over."

"And what is the one deathly hallow unaccounted for?"

They looked at each other, speaking in unison, _"The Resurrection Stone!"_


	25. Chapter 25

Severus opened his weary eyes to the morning sky. He was still laying in a pool of his dried blood in the shack as his eyes surveyed the surroundings. One teary eyed Hermione Granger knelt beside him. He eyes traveled to his hand in her palm. He gave it a squeeze. "You're alive!" She smiled more broadly than he'd ever seen.

"Due to some know-it-all disobeying instructions," his vibrato was a near whisper as she wrapped her arms around him.

"A wise man once told me that not everything should be done according to the books," Her hot tears pressed against his neck.

"Is it… done?" he dared to ask as she pulled away.

"It's over," she spoke with sweet assurance, "Voldemort is no more."

"We did it, Professor." Severus noted the voice of young Potter now on his knees beside Miss Granger. So the boy-who-lived had lived to see another day. His efforts were not in vain. And suddenly, Harry bleeding Potter was wrapping his arms around his teacher's prone frame. "How can I ever thank you enough?"

Severus took a moment to examine the foreign situation in front of him. The boy who hated him for years was now treating him like a saint. One which he certainly was not. He snorted at the irony. "You can get off."

"Oh! Right," Harry pulled back swiftly and straightened his glasses, "sorry."

Severus noted how young Mister Weasley remained in the doorway. "Not going to get yours in as well, are you?"

"No thanks," Ron shook his head. "I think 'Mione and Harry have learned more than I care to know about."

"As usual," Snape smiled.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Ron stomped his foot as his friends laughed at the shared joke.

It was over. After years of torture and despair, _it was finally over._

* * *

Hogwarts. The place that had both literally and metaphorically almost been his tomb. That was, until one bright eyed and bushy-haired girl changed his world. After he had made a full recovery from his injuries, and from a lengthy trial, he'd filed the resignation papers he'd been holding in his cabinet- practically since he'd started the position.

"Oh, Severus," Headmaster McGonagall shook her head as her spectacled eyes perused the paper. "I'm sorry we could not have understood one another better during the war. But, are you sure you want to leave the position?"

"I've never been more certain, Minerva. My reasons for taking up this position have long been fulfilled." He looked to her, "I for one thought your Gryffindors would be celebrating the occasion."

The corners of her wrinkled lips quirked, "Perhaps the ones who have had you, yes. But the ones who have heard of you, they will be awfully disappointed."

"Embellishment is the mark of a Gryffindor story," he stated while thinking of one in particular. "Being a better judge of character than Albus, I trust that the Head of Slytherin House won't be some Lockhart or Umbridge... or worse?"

"You may put your faith in me, Severus. I know that those children need a strong leader now more than ever. Can you guess who it was that made certain I knew?"

Severus looked back from his stance at the window.

"It was Miss Granger," she smiled proudly, a smile which she noted was reciprocated on Severus' face. "You must have had a positive effect on the girl in some fashion. She positively advocated for Slytherins both young and not so young. Why, she was even more passionate than her S.P.E.W days!"

He laughed through his nose, "You're wrong you know. I believe… it was the girl who was responsible for any positive impacts… on me."

The Headmaster was startled by his wistful expression. Then her eyes began to twinkle with Dumbledore's warmth. "Good bye, Severus. And thank you, for all of your service."

* * *

**One Summer Later**

"Severus, are you ready?" Hermione asked as she finished placing an earring in each ear. She checked her hair and makeup in the mirror once more. She was not one to waste time on such frivolous things and the sight of her done up reflection caused her stomach to flip. _Was the style too revealing?_

"As I'll ever be," he spoke as he rounded the corner to their bedroom, stopping to admire the girl who had become the woman before him. "You're a vision in that black dress," he spoke as the back of his hand caressed her cheek, ending under her chin to bring her into a kiss. How had one so intelligent, so vivaciously bold and stubbornly beautiful chosen to be his? He would never know. But, he was determined to never let her go. She deepened it by placing her arms around his shoulder. "Why is it we have to go again?" His words ghosted her lips.

She smiled as she pulled away, "I've been accepted to a position at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and you said you would whisk me off somewhere to celebrate."

"And what if I would like to celebrate here, in our bedroom, Miss Granger?" His lips grazed the column of her throat.

"Then," she took a breath as her heart beat out of time, "I would say this was an _awful_ waste of lipstick and silk."

His fingers traced up the slit in her dress, up her stockinged legs to the juncture of her thighs. "Oh, I wouldn't call it a waste. **Never** a waste."

She ran her fingers through his hair as he continued his administrations. She cried out as his lips expertly captured her breast. "Well," she breathed, "perhaps we do have a bit of time…"

His coal eyes burned with hunger as her lifted her squealing to the bed.

* * *

One hour later, a satisfied Hermione attempted to fix her wild hair in the mirror.

"You look ravishing," Severus purred by her ear, planting another kiss on her exposed throat.

To her, he was ravishing as well, adorned in fitted black velvet robes. Spider-spun cuffs.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see," Severus gave an enigmatic smile. His smile came more easily and often these days. She had yet to see a show of teeth, but she couldn't help but smile back. "Take my hand."

"What? We're apparating?"

He gave a simple nod.

"A- All right." She spoke as she placed her hand in his. "I haven't done this in an awfully long time."

"Trust me," he affirmed.

She closed her eyes as she placed her head against his chest. "You know I do."

Their occlumency connection made it the most seamless apparating experience she had ever known, for once she blinked her eyes she found they'd arrived at the location. And it was one she could never forget. "The Shrieking Shack…" she whispered into the candlelit darkness.

"Hermione," Severus spoke as he grasped each of her hands in his own. "One year ago, on this spot, my life would have ended. It is all thanks to you that I stand here today."

Hermione's eyes grew wide, reflecting the flickering flames.

"And, now, I would like to kneel before you," he spoke as he sunk slowly, "and offer you my life once more. Everything I am will always be in your hands. Hermione Jean Granger, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He held a citrine ring in his tremulous fingers, a symbol of their passion, a phoenix returned from the ashes.

"Yes!" Her tears fell unbidden, "Severus, yes." She whispered, "I will."

As he slipped the ring onto her finger, she was rewarded by that rare smile with teeth. The one that meant true bliss.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he around her: both noting how well they fit another's frame.

For the first time in Severus' life, all was truly well.


End file.
